


The Most Beautiful One Of All

by Marugitto



Series: Thousand Words of Silence [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-07-22 19:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marugitto/pseuds/Marugitto
Summary: A single event can do immense amounts of damage and it was clear this was such a moment. After being forcibly presented to your teammates as Michael's personal prey there is a darkness in the air. Like a stone thrown in a river, the ripples of consequence is soon to be enforced.Is there a way for you to evade the man that had caused you such agony, or is The Entity's Game played in his favour?





	1. Time Doesn't Heal all Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again and welcome to the sequel I never anticipated would happen! When I first wrote my first story I had no idea I would ever get so much amazing feedback from all of you and from the bottom of my heart you really have made an impact in my life, so thank you so much!  
> Still, the moment I heard people would have liked a sequel the cogs in my head began to spin and in the end, I came up with this creation.
> 
> So, without further ado, please enjoy the story that took such a long time that I wanted to die~  
> Thank you all so much for all your amazing support!

The girl cursed underneath her breath. She held back a groan in pain as her hand slipped from her side, causing more blood to pour between her fingers. Leaning her head against the rusty car, she let out a huff, allowing the feeling of light-headedness to wash over her. The trial had gone to shit. She and Dwight had barely gotten halfway on a generator when he struck; quick as a viper. He had grabbed a hold of her top, and ripped her off the machinery, no warnings nor alarms to help her realize the plight she was soon to meet. Really it had been her own fault, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate the past trials. She wasn’t sure if it had been weeks or even months, but then again there was no point in even trying to understand the concept of time in this place. She couldn’t even say nor guess if someone had asked, how long she had been in The Fog. There would be no satisfying answer to give. It could be several years for all she knew. Dwight had managed to run off amidst her capture but had only managed to lead the horror straight towards Tapp. In the meanwhile, Jake had gotten her off the hook. Frustratingly enough, they hadn’t gotten too far away before the killer was upon them once again, slashing the girl to the ground and following after the saboteur. Considering the amount of time Dwight and Tapp had been placed on their respective meat hooks, it wasn’t too hard to analyse the sounds of The Entity being summoned, and with Jake’s shout in the distance, his fate was as sealed as the rest of them. The only one left was her; bleeding out beside a stack of tires. The sound of another body being ripped away signalled her own incoming doom, and she couldn’t wait. She was so tired and after so much blood and pain during such a quick amount of time, the girl didn’t want anything else than the feeling of The Entity grabbing at her soul. She was done with this trial. As she heard the killer’s footsteps, she couldn’t help her thoughts wandering back towards one special moment. It was the moment that had changed everything; how everyone saw the trials, and how everything had been. The rules were changed and there was no escaping the concern she felt about the consequences. The survivor hadn’t realized just how close the killer was until she felt herself being picked up by her throat. With his strong hand abusing her fragile neck, there was no escaping the feeling of blood finding its way into her lungs, having her dry cough as much as she could with her airways cut off. With one hand she grabbed onto his wrist, more out of habit than a wish for survival. The other let go of the bleeding cut on her side and simply dangled parallel with her body. There was no sign of hesitating in his movements, his knife pierced harshly, yet precisely in-between her organs. She felt a lot of hatred towards the man, perhaps a lot more than for the other torturers of this place.  
“Din jävla…” the girl wasn’t able to finish the sentence before her voice stopped, as well as her breathing and heart.

\---

God, you hated the fire. It was so bright, so flaming… and so very boring. Every single crackle from the flames was almost hurting your ears with how often you had to hear the noise. If you looked close enough in-between the logs, you could see exactly where and when the fire would spark and crackle once more. It was all so repetitive. The campsite that once had been a tranquil and peaceful place in-between a life consisting of mind games and death, did nothing more for you now than wholeheartedly bore you. It wasn’t like that for the other’s obviously, as their lives hadn’t changed. They were still slaves to the rules you all had been forced to follow, but not you. Not anymore at least. Contrasting your teammates, you weren’t placed in any trials. You hadn’t in a long time. Whilst your friends returned and left again to die or survive, you never felt the Entity’s call. They would either come back exhausted and wounded, or they would simply arise from dark smoke, proving their losses. Not you though. Not since that one trial so long ago. You weren’t sure how long it had been, but there were two new people at the campfire even.

As much as you wanted to forget it, there was no stopping the memories of the last time you were in a trial and its aftermath. You hadn’t been quick enough to realize his intentions, and before you knew it, you had been falling. When you had risen from the ground, you had been at a loss at what you saw. The same could have been said for your teammates. As you looked back at the horrifying ordeal, there was difficulty in trying to find the exact words to describe how you felt. There was the feeling of embarrassment of course, but also horror and fear. Sadness, anger, and anguish were strong emotions too; but complete and utter shock was perhaps the most prominent reaction at the time. The frozen moment of the others watching you didn’t last as long as it felt back then when you thought about it. Nea and Claudette had been quick to rush at your side. You couldn’t remember their faces at the time, but now you’d imagine Claudette being frantic and horrified, whilst Nea was probably royally pissed off, yet saddened. You hadn’t realized either when Adam had come up to you, but at some point, as Claudette was checking on your wounds, you felt Nea putting Adam’s coat on top of your shoulders. Every sound had been a buzz and you hadn’t been able to concentrate on what anyone said. You had felt like an empty husk; perhaps still did.

All of that had led you up to the amazing adventure of simply sitting on a log, as you had now since then, and for the longest time. It felt like months, and whilst you hadn’t been sitting all the time, you had grown bored of counting the 1, 437 pebbles that were littered around the campsite’s area. There was no fun in knowing how many roots were visible around the fire; which was 18 and at some point, you had made a game out of throwing a few pebbles into the fire. You had been forced to stop messing with the fire the moment those pebbles were shot right back at you, then hot from the flames. It was apparent that The Entity did not enjoy having small stones being thrown into its offering pit, but even though you had tried to antagonize it, there was no releasing you from your prison around the fire. At first, you had just thought you were to wait a little longer before entering a trial, but as the others would be picked up and returned so many times whilst you were still wearing Adam’s coat and at the campsite, you quickly realized that The Entity was punishing you in a different way.

In the beginning, the others hadn’t dared to ask you what had happened because, in a way, they all knew. You had been a shaking mess when you had sat down with the help of Claudette; the feeling of his essence and your blood slowly drying between your thighs. Tears had been silently rolling down your cheeks as pain erupted the moment your rear touched the wooden surface. It was clear that you had been bruised from his administrations. You hadn’t been able to say anything when they tried to make contact with you. Your brain had been in disarray; one part was anxiously trying to understand and sort all the feelings and thoughts that ran through your head – every worry and horror both past, present and future. There was the shock that was washing over you about how he had exposed his actions towards you to the others – the fact that he had orchestrated your humiliation by presenting you painted by him. Then there was the present issue of how the others would react to hearing about your abuse. You had been so anxious about whether or not you were going to tell your fellow survivors about what had happened, but he had taken that choice away from you. Now there was no telling how they would respond in the future. Would they abandon you for it? Would they hate you or think that you were lying if you told them everything? The fear of them leaving you was the worst of all, as there was no way of knowing, and if they did, what would you do if he found you again?

The other part of you was blank. Just blank as if everything you knew that had happened was still foggy and unfathomable. As if there was an empty hole inside of you that with every moment grew in size. In a way it reminded you of the eyes of his mask; a black pit that sucked you in. The more you thought about the abyss, the more you if felt as if you were falling, dizzy and afraid of the impact, should you encounter something in the dark. You couldn’t help but fear the possibility of the black void inside of your swallowing you up.

It had taken you a lot of time before you felt like speaking to anyone. For a while, you had only sat in silence, clenching the white coat around you and staring into the flames. You had wanted to run between the trees until none of their eyes were on you anymore and cry your heart out, but you knew that they would never let you run off on your own. After all, it was still The Entity’s realm and you knew you couldn’t trust anything of its creations. So instead, you would sit in silence, drowning in the emotions you were experiencing and the physical pain that simply wouldn’t vanish. Every single noise and sound you could hear would startle you and you would constantly be looking around you. It didn’t matter if this was a “safe zone”; you still felt his gaze on you.

At some point, the others would be talking again, mostly to the new woman who had been sitting by the fire when you arrived. At first, you hadn’t acknowledged her existence even, but with time, you were aware of her. She was really beautiful, with a glow that screamed comfort and elegance. Perhaps it was the fact that she was wearing a blazer set. You had startled Kate, who had sat beside you when you asked for her name, but you learned that the newcomer was Jane Romero, a previous TV host, as she now was a survivor; the same as all of you. There was a new danger as well that had arrived at The Fog, and The Survivors that had met her first alongside Jane decided to call her The Plague. After hearing how she was torturing your teammates, you were both disgusted and agreeing on their choice of name. At least there was something  
Realizing that you wouldn’t meet her as you were never called after, it gave your uneasy stomach a better feeling, but you knew deep down that she would never be more of a threat than your very own abuser.

With time you had managed to speak up about what had happened to the group, about how it all started and how it all ended. David had sputtered some angry curses as you had spoken, but you knew they weren’t directed towards you. Kate had been horrified to hear what had happened after her falling from the MacMillan tower, and Bill had muttered something along the lines of “Sorry, kid.” Feng Min, who also had been there the first trial, was sitting uncharacteristically silent as you spoke. Jeff had been horribly disturbed to hear what his handcuffs had been used for and had hurriedly and furiously thrown them into the fire. Unfortunately, when he returned after dying at a trial later, they were magically back at his hip. The Entity’s sick games were still in fruition it seemed. 

Nea had also spoken up about what she had seen and had expressed her frustration and anger by kicking a rock, which accidentally hit Dwight on the cheek. He seemed to have been lost in his thoughts so the pebble had startled him so badly that he had fallen off the log. Even with the serious tone around the campsite, there was no helping the muffled chuckles and laughter that erupted, and surprisingly, you found yourself giving a silent chuckle as well. Even though you felt horrible and was in pain, there was something about that small moment that made you somewhat feel better. Perhaps it was that no one had been worried about making a sound, or the fact that at that moment, no one had their focus on you. Strangely enough, you somewhat felt better.

The tiny moment of ease hadn’t lasted long, however, as someone had been dragged back to a trial, and then more. At some point, another man had shown up at the campsite; Ashley Joanna Williams. It was evident that he preferred to be called Ash, as he probably was a little embarrassed over the fact that if you only had heard his name and not seen him, you’d probably think it was a new female in The Fog. Still, he was a charming and funny man, and you found yourself enjoying his company around the fire. He had a lot of weird and funny stories to tell all of you, and you would soak up everything you could to tame the boredom you felt. Ace also seemed ecstatic about the new survivor as he had proclaimed how “fresh it was to find another soul similar to his own”. Contrasting Ace’s carefree and gambling persona, Bill and Tapp was rather “boring and strict” as Ace called it, and were no fun. Finally, Ace could play cards with a “like-minded gentleman,” and not “this bunch of children”. David, who usually was Ace’s card-playing companion, had taken a lot of offence, which was always amusing. It was refreshing to see some life around the fire, as you always felt a pang of guilt about how everyone felt they had to walk on eggshells around you. It also frustrated you, but you knew they were just trying to do the right thing. That was were Ash was an angel sent from above; a loud and boasting man who whilst knew what had happened to you were still talkative and would bring some light to the place.

\---

You were sitting at the log as always, digging a stick you had found into the fires. Kate was sitting on the log at your right, humming a soft tune whilst brushing her hands through Quentin's curly locks as he was dozing off leaning against her. They seemed to have gotten a strong bond throughout their time in The Fog, a sort of sibling-like relationship. Kate had once told you that he reminded her of her younger brother, Ethan. She had said that whilst her younger brother was 15 before her time in The Entity’s Realm, he was probably closing in on Quentin’s age as he was frozen in time as a 17-year-old. You could see it had hurt to have spoken about her family, as it was clear she loved them very much, but now she seemed to be pleased with just softly dragging her fingers through his hair and untangling a few knots. Jeff, Meg and Ace were sitting there too, but no one seemed to be in a talkative nor gaming mood, and so there would have been silence around camp, had it not been for Kate’s soft voice and the horribly boring fire.

The silence didn’t last long as the fire was suddenly surrounded by black smoke rising softly from the ground and upwards, and before you knew it, Dwight was standing in front of you. You all knew the schtick and so you all just watched him sit down on the log beside Jeff. Tapp arrived shortly after, and then Jake. Last was Nea, clearly tired as she sat down beside you. The trial had gone sour and it was obvious on their faces.

“Who was it?” asked Meg as she re-did her shoelaces. What she received was a choked silence, as Dwight almost answered, but stopped himself. The four of them seemed uncomfortable. It was all the answer you needed.

“You weren’t gone for long, was he quick?” you asked monotonously. You didn’t want them to know how much it affected to talk about The Shape, but you knew it wasn’t hard to read through your tone.

“And brutal,” replied Nea, “There wasn’t any stalking or waiting, he just… he just attacked us before we could do anything.” You could see that she was pondering about something. Noticing Nea stopping, Dwight spoke up.

“Very few of us have managed to escape when we’ve come up against him, and it’s been going on for a while no-,“ he was unable to finish his sentence before Nea told him to shut up. You could see him freeze up and he moved his eyes down in defeat.

“Nea, it’s okay, “you told her softly.

“No, but he shouldn’t go off about-“

“And you shouldn’t go off on him,” you continued. You knew her intentions; she didn’t want what he said to influence you, but it didn’t matter if he said it or not. Silence would be an answer as well.

She bit her lip as she turned her head away from you. It was obvious that she was insulted, but probably knew where you were coming from. After sitting for such a long time around the fire, you really had nothing but time, and you learned quickly that Nea was a bit like wildfire and would need her own time to calm down.

You all sat in silence after that. Feeling an itch on the nape of your neck you move your hand back, only to stop the moment as your fingertips brushed over a certain mark. Your whole body gave off a small shiver and your hair rose on your arms, but no one seemed to notice. Your fingers, that at first had skipped away from your skin, found their way back to the bruising, slowly feeling around it. Your skin dipped a bit at the places his teeth had put their mark, and it gave a painful ache around the area. It took a second, but you realized that your breathing had suddenly gone a bit erratic, your chest rising quicker than before. You had touched the marks he had laid on you before, as they just seemed to always stay fresh, but this time was different – the wound had given an unusual sensation when you had touched it.

Your chest was riddled with his bites, and if you sat in a specific way, there was a faint feeling of him on your hip. You hurriedly looked around the fire; no one was looking at you and Nea was purposely not giving you any of her attention. Your shaking intensified as your mind ransacked your body for information of where he had been – The Shape. No, Michael; where Michael had been. As your mind focused on the places he had touched you there was a warmth erupting from inside. Your wrists were now catching fire as you almost felt your bones crush to his grip, your neck was sweaty and bruised, hurting no matter the position. Your chest ached from all the bite marks, but perhaps most from the pained cut over your heart. It was beating so fast and your breath was so loud, so why didn’t the others notice? Your mind looked deeper. A whimper dislodged itself from your throat as you felt him on your hips, bruising your cheeks from his pushes and it was just too much. Sitting on the log only simulated his pressure. With every part of your body screaming out in pain and faint pleasure, you felt yourself heave for breaths. Your eyes shut themselves as you tried desperately to stop the tears and the feeling of molten lava running through your veins. Couldn’t the others hear you? Did no one notice or care that you were shaking and whimpering? That you were in pain? Hurriedly you snapped open your eyes.

As if the pain was inflicted by the push of a button, it was all gone. All the pain vanished from your being, now only leaving the ‘normal’ ache and your distressed breathing. That did, however, not matter at all. What did matter was how silent it was. The fire’s crackling wasn’t as prominent, and Kate’s smooth melody was nowhere to be heard. She was nowhere to be seen either. None of them were. Your eyes darted around the campsite, looking for someone – anyone. Quentin was no longer dozing off on your right, nor was Jake standing behind a log, watching like a bird as always. Dwight was gone, and Nea was nowhere to be seen as well. Had they all gone to a trial? Had they all heard The Entity’s call? There was a prominent sense of unease slowly seeping into your bones as you realized you were absolutely, and wholeheartedly alone. Alone. You had never been alone during your imprisonment to the campsite; the other survivors coming and going at different times. What was going on? The silence was almost deafening with how loud it was – it practically hurt. No crows were in the distance cawing. You were all on your own now.

The seconds passed into minutes, and as time went on, your uneasiness increased. “What if the others weren’t coming back? What if they were still at camp, whilst you were the one that had been moved? Were there more campsites? Was there anything you could do? Would you be all alone? Could you escape? Maybe if you left the fire you could find them again. Maybe it was holding you back?” With all the questions running around in your mind, they fuelled your shaking legs into rising. Something felt wrong, or rather: something was wrong. Goosebumps riddled your arms and the air seemed thicker almost as if every breath took more to inhale. You felt a single drop of sweat roll down your neck. Feeling unprotected, you tightly clenched your borrowed coat around your body. Looking around, your eyes paid attention to the forest. Nervousness and dread ran through your bloodstream as your eyes darted around you. Your pulse had been rising but abruptly stopped the moment your eyes caught sight of the deviation from the trees. As your eyes caught sight of the pale silhouette in the distance, it felt as if you had been kicked by a horse in the chest. You couldn’t breathe. As if linked, you were both exposed to the other one’s stare. The coat you were wearing was so bright beside the fire, and you felt like a lighthouse attracting all that could see it, and he did. He had found you. It didn’t matter if it was The Entity who led him to you or if it was his own search for you that had brought him to the camp. All that mattered was that the man who had brought you so much suffering was here; the man who had taken you apart and who had forced you to be presented as a broken toy to your teammates, dripping with his presence. After what had felt between weeks and months, Michael was here, and he had come for you. Even though there was a part of you that had been happy about not going into any more trials, you had always been anxious about him finding a way to you. In a way, you had always felt his gaze on you, as was the reason as to why you never left the camp. It was clear now that said hunch had been correct. Even with him standing at the edge of the forest, close to 10 meters away from you, there was no stopping the feeling of him breathing down your neck. It was suffocating.

Without warning, he moved forward and it felt like your heart restarted it’s beating. You wanted to cry and run off into the distance, to increase the space between you, but there was a voice screaming louder than the others as you stood frozen and shaking. Even as tears began to form and you felt your body shake, the voice forced you to stay put; to not leave the fire. His stride was focused and determined as always, and whilst the distance between you decreased by the second, there was something that made it feel like time slowed down.

Suddenly, he ended his strides towards you and stopped a bit away from the logs surrounding the fire. For a moment you both looked at each other, your heart beating in a frenzy. Your gaze was broken, however, as he turned his eyes down towards the ground in front of him, as if inspecting something. You didn't know how to react. You two hadn't seen each other in such a long amount of time, and when he actually found you, he was more interested in the dirt? You were so baffled. All this time you had been filled with terror and anguish, with rage and sadness, and now that you met him again, you didn't know what to do. You were a shaking mess, uncertain yet detecting his every move and prepared to flee.

His face turned back up to you again and your eyes caught his hand tightly clenching his knife. It almost looked like his movements released tremors up his arm. Something was wrong. His mask went back to the grassy floor and returned back to you. With every second of him fidgeting you found your shakes calm themselves as you observed him. What was he doing? Seeming frustrated he moves to the side a few steps before he stopped again. His eyes were following the ground as he walked, almost as if following the line of a circle around you.

That's when it hit you. Your hunch telling you to stay put and him stopping abruptly and not moving past a certain point; it all led to one conclusion - he couldn't. Something was stopping him from moving forward. Following the view of The Shape's shoulders, you could see them heaving as it seemed like he was trying to go forward.

"Michael?" Your voice was shaky and coarse, yet the monster of a man had no difficulty hearing you. His eyes shot up to you, his entire being appearing to be clenched and frustrated.

"You can't reach me, can you?" You ask him uncertainly. It was clear that he wouldn't verbally answer you, but seeing how he looked so tense, there was no need for a vocal reply. "You can't get me as long as I am here. There's a barrier stopping you," you continued. Somehow you managed to sound calm with just a bit of wavering in your voice, despite your mind and all your senses were in total disarray. Your eyes shifting to where The Shape stood, it looked like there was some kind of wall that blocked his way to you, and that it was infuriating him. He couldn't touch you. Could it be that this was his punishment? That he was given the possibility of seeing you but would be unable to actually hurt you? Was this The Entity’s way of playing a sick joke on him? Continuing to see him fidget and look around you for an opening left you with a feeling you couldn’t discern; perhaps an emotion you had not felt in what seemed like ages.

Enjoyment. Schadenfreude. Your fear somehow subsided slowly but surely as adrenaline began to pump more vividly in your veins. He couldn’t touch you. For once he wouldn’t get his way. He wasn’t in control of the situation. After such a long time in the darkness, a feeling similar to red velvet began to flow through you. The sensation that ran through each fibre of your being was warm and welcoming, yet foreign in a way. Like seeing a well-met face from your past. You couldn’t describe it if you wanted to, but it was consuming. There was the small indication that laughter was building inside of you, but you didn’t dare to- no you couldn’t, could you? The possibility of laughter erupting in a place such as The Fog was impossible, if not heresy. Yet, you could not deny the push from inside as you tried your hardest to contain your fountain of emotions.

His eyes went back to studying your face, and perhaps that was the trigger that fired the bullet because before you knew it a soft chuckle found its way from your throat. The shivers that once were of fear were converted into something perhaps darker, yet more inviting. There was no way of stopping the feeling of delight from taking its hold of you as he realized your change of manner. He knew you knew. The small chuckle that left you at first returned as a giggle that you were unable to contain. He couldn’t get his way! The Entity had stopped him! He was the one who was getting punished this time! Was this even possible? Was it even imaginable to think that for once you’d come on top? There was a special type of pleasure you found in his frustration as you knew he had lost. The bubbling emotion inside of you had a clear name, yet you dared not think it.

“It’s stopping you, isn’t it? You…” your words were almost desperate as they flew out between a fit of laughter. Nothing that you had ever experienced had ever been more hilarious than watching Michael not being able to do what he wanted. You couldn’t help it, it was just too amazing, “You were tricked to think you could get me, didn’t you?” His reaction was nothing more than an intake of breath as you saw him try to move his feet forward. You were angering him beyond doubt, and even though an anxious voice inside you begged you to stop your taunts, there was no way that was possible.

“You’ve lost, Michael,” your taunt seemed to be the last straw as harshly tried to move the hand brandishing his knife forward. Your insolence had angered him, yet it was most likely his inability to hurt you that was the real fuel to his fires. Before you could reason with your legs, your right foot went forward. Then the left. The instinct telling you to stay close to the fire was as silent as the grave and the only thing audible was the crunching of leaves, your heartbeat, and the murderer’s aggressive breaths. With each step towards him, you found the thick velvet almost choking you as a smile found its place on your face. His shoulders were heaving with each step, but the past horror his aggression had given you were being suffocated.

It was only when you had left the confines of the logs circling the fire and walked a few meters onwards that your legs forced you to stop – a short distance between you. Your heartbeat was racing, yet you somehow managed to stay visually calm. At such a close range, there was no stopping your eyes from taking him in. It really felt like it had been such a long time since everything. In front of you was The Shape in all his glory. The blue coveralls were as dirtied as always, but perhaps there were more bloodstains now. His hands were as rough as always, harsh and there was proof of his brutality as you faintly could see blood underneath his nails and scratch marks on his knuckles. Then there was the ivory pale face of death staring down at you. It didn’t matter if he was seething in anger or absolutely indifferent; the expression in front of you would never change. Many a time had you been forced to tell yourself that it had been your mind playing tricks on you when you saw his ghostly features in the distance. Looks like it wasn’t so far fetched that it could have been him. The mask had some darker patches, but it was the splash of blood around his left eye that got your attention. He had been busy in your absence and there was a dark part of you that couldn’t help but wonder whose blood it was. You simply kept staring at each other as the seconds passed, fully taking in each other.

“You’ve hurt me, Michael. Like no other,” you began. You hadn’t realized you had spoken before the words had already been said, “I never imagined that there was anything worse than death that could ever happen to me in this place, and then you came along.” It was hard to voice what you wanted, but the need to release all the feelings you had kept inside for such a long time was too strong. The suffocating anger and amusement that had controlled your actions were slowly fading as you spoke and reality took its hold of you. “You’ve broken me like no other, and I can’t even try to explain my own emotions,” there was no stopping your confession. Slowly, but surely small tears began to arise as your throat began to burn. He really hurt you. “You know, I used to believe that death was the most horrid event that ever could happen to a person, but not anymore. Not since I was dragged here and have died myself… so many times.” The last words came out as a shudder erupted from inside, “I’ve experienced my own life ending so many times in such a short amount of time, and yet I can only say that when it all comes down to it, death was nothing more than a blessing, no matter the pain involved.” The tears that had built themselves had begun to slowly flow over as your speech became more and more erratic and shaky. There was no reaction to your words, but you knew he listened. He always paid attention to his surroundings.

“Nothing that I’ve ever experienced has ever been as unfathomably painful as the life you forced upon me and I can’t understand why you’ve done this,” you cried. By now the tears were flowing without any thought of stopping and your voice was similar to that of a hurt mouse. Everything hurt. Your body, your mind, and soul. Everything felt so loud inside your mind, everything screaming and watching you as you broke down in front of him – in front of the man who had done all this to you. How could there exist a man so horrible and filled with so much hatred that he could ever wish upon someone so much agony? You knew there was no answer to your question as your eyes returned to his. Through your wet lashes, you looked upon the one who would never express himself to you vocally. You, on the other hand, could.  
“You may have broken me, Michael, but know this,” you stopped as your voice wavered. His presence was so intimidating, yet you knew you couldn’t stay silent – not after such a long time. 

“I don’t belong to you.” 

As if the words had been your chains, you looked up at him in astonishment. He had stopped his aggressive breathing, now only looking like a frozen statue. He had heard your words and it had affected him. You had managed to stand up to him and force him to listen to your words. You had confronted him. As silent as the morning sea, you stared in silence at each other. Both just being. Suddenly he straightened his back. He hadn’t been slouching, but with the slight stretch of his spine, he towered above you even taller than before. A sudden tingle inside you rose up from the pit of your stomach, but not before he took a step forward.

Your heart stopped the second you saw him come forward. Your mind blanked as you watched him; time seemingly standing still. How had he done it? He couldn’t walk onwards before so why now? Your instincts knew you wouldn’t be able to get an answer to your questions and automatically forced your legs into action. You quickly turned to run, but only got to take a few steps before you felt strong arms encircle your midsection and arms. Screaming out in shock and horror you felt yourself leave the ground as he lifted you to his chest and dragged you back with him. Now it was his breathing that was almost deafening as you desperately tried to escape his clutches like a wild animal. Your screams and cries did nothing as you stumbled in his grasp. How had he managed to get to you? He clearly couldn’t walk past that point! He had obviously stopped at a certain spot because he couldn’t come close to the fire. 

A gasp was forced from you the moment before you hit the ground. You had been lucky and had not landed on your back and gotten the air knocked out of you, but instead, you felt an almost electric-like pain go through your body since your knees and arms had. As you gasped out you shakily turned around. The sight in front of your eyes sent shivers down your spine. Standing above you was an angel of death in his purest form. With the light from the fires behind him, his features were darkened yet his shape was glowing. His Shape. Once again, he had lived up to his name like so many times before. The killer’s knife was reflecting the moonlight on one side and the flames on the other. He was Death in its purest form. It didn’t matter if such a long time had passed, nothing had changed between the two of you. He was the killer and you were the survivor. He was a predator and you were the prey. There was no difference between now and the earlier times he had relished in his power over you. Or maybe it was? Staring up at The Shape there was no way you couldn’t notice how his shoulders rose at a high speed. This wasn’t just enjoyment at your expense; this was a full-on sadistic pleasure that had been waiting for this special moment. He had been waiting for you to make a mistake like always. Each and every time he had come for you, it had because of some error you had made. It all began because of you unmasking him the first time you met. Because you hadn’t been aware of your surroundings several times. Yet this time you couldn’t understand how he even had managed to get you. 

It was clear that he was not interested in that at all, as his focus was wholeheartedly on you. There was no stopping the flinch as Michael slowly descended on you. There would be no reason to try and run, but you did it anyway. Desperately you grabbed a hold of the ground beneath you and hurriedly tried to drag yourself away. Anticipating your move his free hand snatched your ankle in a bruising grip. You couldn’t help the whimpers as you felt the harsh tug pulling you back. The pricking of sharp stones and roots dug into the back of the coat, but it was little comfort against the burn that came from the friction. The moment you returned underneath him, his hand left your pained ankle and instead went as quick as a viper to your neck. There was nothing you could do but gasp for air and grab at his hand. With the old bruises still not healed the pain was much more immense than you had ever felt before. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you desperately tried to get him off you. Your airflow was further restricted the moment you felt him lift you up towards him, as the hand brandishing his knife went to your back, the blade threatening to dig into your skin. With one leg kneeled on each side of your hip he forced you into a sitting position. In a way, it was similar to the way he had held you when he had forced you to watch him undress himself the last time he had his way with you. This time, however, he simply stared at you. No, he inspected your face. It seemed like it had been a long time for him too. Somehow it infuriated you to see him so calm whilst studying your features. As always, he was calm and calculated whilst you wore your emotions on your sleeve. 

“Take a picture it’ll last longer, “you spat at him between clenched teeth. Your voice had been almost muted due to his pressure, but you knew he had heard you, “What is it, Mikey? Have I got something on my face?” you continued to antagonize him. As much as there was terror streaming through every vein in your body there was also a burning fury that washed over you. Just staring at the pale mask that had haunted your mind for such a long time made your blood boil. The other killers had been just that; killers. They did the job that The Entity gave them and nothing more and if they had done their job well, they were given the option to kill with their own hand. The Shape had been the same, but it was clear that Michael didn’t enjoy only following The Entity’s bidding. Or maybe it was the evil deity who pushed him to do this out of curiosity. You couldn’t be sure, but in the end, it didn’t matter since it wouldn’t change the outcome.

His only reply to your comments was a tighter grip around your already beaten neck and a pull that forced your faces to almost touch. As much as you tried to recoil away from the man, he just pulled you closer to him – so close that the tips of the mask touched against your cheek. Seemingly anticipating your unwillingness, he simply pushed himself even closer. There was no stopping the tear that fell the moment you felt him breathe in your scent as he had done several times before. Him forcing himself through your comfort-zone was an invasion all on its own and hurt so badly to know you were back in his grasp. Feeling yourself becoming lightheaded because of the loss of air, your hands went from his wrist to his shoulders to weakly push him away. Your temples were pounding and you were beginning to see dark spots. Noticing your fight dying down he returned to look at you before releasing your neck. The feeling of your throat’s airways opening hurt a lot more intensely than you could have imagined as your cry only came out as a throaty squeak. You dared not try and touch your neck as you knew it most likely was battered and blue beyond reason. The sound you emitted also came to a holt as the hand that had been holding your back let go and your upper body hit the ground. Your neck whiplashed backwards and hit the dirt floor. Had this been the real world you were sure you would have gotten a concussion by now. You almost felt like throwing up. With the world spinning and you incapacitated, he violently ripped open the coat, ripping the buttons straight off. You had been only in your birthday suit when you had fallen through the hatch and with your last piece of coverage removed, there was no barrier between your body and his eyes. Your cry was choked up as any type of sound burned your throat.

You weakly tried to cover yourself with your arms, but he just pulled them harshly off your chest. Uncharacteristically of him, he dragged his fingers slowly down your front. With the simple touch of his finger, he left a trail of heat between every mark he touched. Your body was in discord as it both shivered from the cold and began to sweat from the heat he emitted. The bite marks and redness were still riddling your chest and collarbone, but it was a medium-sized band-aid that had caught his attention. The wound he had made back when he had cut your bra off you had been patched up by Claudette, which seemed to infuriate him as he harshly ripped it off you. The sudden sting had awoken some of your lost consciousness and you looked up at him with blurry eyes. This wasn’t just some regular hunt for him this time; no, he was inspecting all he had done to you. There was no difference between whether or not you were fully dressed or naked – you felt bare to his stare as he picked up every detail he could. You wanted to curse him out, but the only sound you were able to make were pained whimpers. The feeling of uselessness was overwhelming as you harshly pushed him away from you, tears spilling. You just wanted this to be over. No more trials nor waiting by the campfire. Death had once meant something to you, but that was a long time ago, and now it was a false symbol of its former self. Now you just wanted it to end. Your pushes did nothing to move him away, as he simply grabbed ahold of your respective wrists before forcing them on each side of your head. With him leaning over your entire being it became once again clear to you how much taller he was; how he was more physically superior to you in every way. For a moment you just stared at each other, his mask enshadowed by his posture, making it impossible to decipher how his eyes bore into yours. Was there fury in his gaze? Arousal? You couldn’t help but conclude with both as he forced your left wrist into his other hand that had moved to above you. With his free hand, he grabbed ahold of your thigh and pulled it away from your other and slowly, but deliberately, pushed his knee in-between.

With your legs spread for him, you whimpered as you heard him take a heavy breath. He had waited such a long time for this moment. With his hand still on your thigh, you flinched the moment he began kneading his fingers into your thigh. A movement that at most times is used as a romantic gesture between lovers felt wrong and harsh as he felt you up. His grip went higher as he dragged it up to your pelvis. With his fingers touching your hip, his thumb drew circles right above your womanhood. Still, his mask was clearly in the direction of your face, intensely watching your face turn a darker shade of red. He had waited such a long time for you to be in his grasp once more and now he would enjoy and drag out every single moment he could.

“Michael,” your voice was rough and came more like a whimper. It was forced out of you and it pained your vocal cords enough for you to know that your words would be limited. As he heard his name from your lips he tilted his head to the side, clearly acknowledging you. Slowly, he leaned closer down to your face, but this time with the lips of the mask hovering above your own. With such short proximity between you, there was no hiding what was behind the eyeholes of the mask. As you had seen him such a long time ago, his eyes were visible. Even though one eye was a dull milk-like colour and the other greenish-blue, they seemed oddly perfectly matched. As if the eye where he could see you were the oceans deep and the vast abyss, his grey one was the fog and mist surrounding you at the surface; both forcing you into a deafening and drowning submission. 

Transfixed on his gaze you failed to notice the hand on your hip moving before you gasped out as he pushed his fingers into your depths. A strangled cry came from you as you arched your back. Intently he focused his gaze on your expressions as you felt his fingers roughly feel around inside of you. It was nothing more than utterly painful as it seemed that also your insides were still fresh from his abuse. Time was truly no reality anymore. Crying out you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but with your hands locked together and with your legs spread by his hips there was little you could do to escape the unwanted touches. You being sore seemed to not halt Michael’s dedication at all, and only appeared to be fueling the cruel fire inside of him further. You couldn’t help but gasp as he reached deep enough to touch your most sensitive of places. Noticing your plight he kept abusing the bundle of nerves as you whined out. It was only the moment a new tear ran down your cheek that he retracted his hand. You wanted to cry hard, but the agonizing burn in your throat prevented you from further visibly falling to pieces. Michael shifted his weight on his knees for a second before he leaned further away from you. The feeling of him not smothering you was welcoming as you shakily breathed in. Your focus, however, was immediately brought to the hand in front of your face. Michael had brought his hand for you to see, and the sight sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers were glistening with your essence, but what was more prominent and horrifying was the red and white fluids. The blood was evidence of how violent he had treated you back then, and his seed only proved that you hadn’t managed to clean all of him out of you. You could still remember the tearful shudders and embarrassment you had felt when you had been standing at the outskirts of the campsite behind the trees desperately trying to get all of him out from within you. Claudette had come with you and had been forced to hear your crying as she had been turned around to give you your privacy. You had never before been as happy over the fact that the med-kits had cleansing wipes as you had been back then.

Michael seemed to too be inspecting the mixture of you both. It was only for a few seconds, however, before you saw his focus return to you. Not able to wiggle away, he dragged his wet fingers across your face, wiping your wetness and blood, and his seed off on you. It was the last drop that made the glass overflow as you ignored the pain in your throat and began crying. He was such a monster – a sadistic monster who found pleasure in degrading you in horrible ways. As your tears fell you could hear the prominent sound of his zipper being pulled down. Staring up at him with teary and shaky eyes you pleaded with him to stop, but your sight was only met with the man above you breathing heavily as he shuffled with his clothing. The hand that had been clenched around your wrists left you abruptly as he instead lifted your hips up to meet his. It seemed that he was tired of fooling around as he ground himself against your abdomen. The feeling of his manhood sliding up against you had your hands fumbling with getting a grip on the ground as you hurriedly tried to shuffle away from his advances. His only response was a grip on your hip before he guided himself into you. Feeling the push against your opening your hands flew to his wrists. Noticing your struggles he pushed harshly forward enough for his tip to be inside of you. With both hands moved to your hips he steadied you for a second before he aggressively pushed into you the rest of the way, only stopping the moment he felt your pelvis against his. A low and dark growl-like sound erupted from his throat as he leaned his head backwards. This was the moment Michael had been waiting for; for you to be struggling underneath him as he took you until you bled and cried. You had already done that earlier, but at the feeling of him filling you up left you wheezing for air as you struggled not to hyperventilate. With every push of his hips against yours, his grip on your hips increased. As much as you tried to push him off you, there was no stopping his violent assault against your cervix.

“Michael! Stop! Please!” you choked up as you were pulled back against him with every thrust. Your cry for mercy seemed only to fuel his fires as he harshly grabbed your neck and began squeezing the life out of you. As a reflex, your hand had followed his, but it was clear that your retaliation could do nothing to stop the fury that was Michael. His pushes seemed to be increasing in strength as black spots began to cover your sight. Your heartbeat rang in your ears as you felt the thundering of your temples against the pressure. Your other hand that had been struggling with forcing him to release your hip went towards his abdomen to stop his harsh pushes, but it proved fruitless. With every second of him grinding and thrusting against your walls, you found your fight dying down. You couldn’t stop him, he was in control and was too strong.

Just as you felt everything blur into darkness he released your battered and bruised neck and you gasped out for air. Instead, Michael leaned onto his forearm as he supported himself above you. With the closer proximity between you, his pace increased drastically. It was clear that he was reaching his peak as he seemed to try and hold back his voice. It was just the moment your hands went to the front of his overalls that he suddenly thrust himself as far as he could inside of you. Your insides were already in pain, but feeling his seed fill you up burned aggressively against your soreness. His face was directly in front of yours and his heavy breaths were the only thing you could hear as he ground himself into you with a final push.

You couldn’t have said how long the moment lasted as you felt dislocated with your body. One part feeling every single sting and burn he had forced upon you, the other a mere spectre of its former self. Seemingly tired he pushed himself away from you; a pained whine leaving your lips. Was it over? Was it truly over now? Would you just disappear into nothingness as you felt yourself dislocate from your vessel? The slight tickle that ran down between your cheeks and dripped down on the grass signalized where he had left his mark this time, like all times before. As you felt your mind leave yourself you barely acknowledged the feeling of his knife impale itself between your ribs. As quickly as it had entered you it left and re-entered. The feeling of your lungs filling up with your blood as you coughed was familiar. It seemed that Michael had not only wanted to have his way with you but had also the strongest urge to kill you as well. The cold shiver that ran through your veins signalled your last moments and there was only one thing that ran through your mind.

In all your time in The Fog, with every moment agony, there had been one tune that had been the most beautiful of them all. The sweet song of death was as mild and suffocating as ever, and the best you could ever experience.


	2. Real Helpful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, has this chapter been an annoyance... or rather, everything around it has been absolute chaos. The day I posted the first chapter of this story, I managed to drop my computer. I was sitting on the ground and dropped it from like barely 10cm above ground :///  
> Still, I pushed through said chapter and sent my pc to get it repaired. It wasn't supposed to take as much time as it did, but the guy I gave my computer managed to break the screen as well, and so they needed to order those parts too. 10 days became like a month ugh but, in the end, I got my lil compie back and I started writing this.
> 
> Now, this chapter is a bit like my second chapter in "Just kill me in regular fashion" so it's not the type of chapter that a lot maybe were hoping for, cx  
> Either way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well, and I hope to move onwards with this story in a better pace than it has.  
> The feedback from you all has been amazing and I am so happy, grateful and you all have been such a big part of why this year has been an amazing experience!  
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and please enjoy!

A shiver went down your spine as the chilly air grasped hold of your body. Every small tingle across your skin felt different than the next; like something you knew, yet was unfamiliar with. Similar to the slight caress of fingers running across every crack and crevice that littered your being. You couldn’t decide whether it was comforting in the darkness or if it was disturbing. Something about the feeling of lightness was so hard to decipher. Around you the darkness was total and consuming, sucking any and all light and sound into its depths. Perhaps you should have felt the need to scream for anything or anyone, but there was no such desire. All you could feel was the emptiness drag you down into it, suffocating you and drowning you in it. Maybe it wasn’t so bad? To never feel more than It and simply float into nothingness? To feel the waves of dark and heavy silk drape itself around your limbs and choke out all the air in your lungs? 

Whether or not it was your true wish to disappear into the abyss it would not be your fate, at least for now. As the darkness slowly faded away from you like a veil of smoke you breathed in the brisk air and opened your eyes to a view of yellow. Not the energic colour that reminded you of warm summers and childhood happiness, but rather a mould-like, almost rotten colour. The smell wasn’t all that different as the cornfields that surrounded you gave off the odour of decaying plants and wet wheat that had not been stored properly. It made you wrinkle your nose in disgust as you looked around you. The contrast between the earlier darkness left you in a hazy state making standing upright difficult. Coldwind Farm was a place that never had sat well with you. The place reeked of death, as all of them did, but there was something so ominous about the cows that were tied up in different trees. Sometimes you seemed to hear them wail in pain as they dangled slightly in the wind, but you hoped it only was your imagination. Whilst there was some safety between the fields of corn, there was always the possibility of stepping in a well-hidden trap or being snuck upon by the more silent killers like Pig or...

As realization struck it felt like someone had just ripped out your heart. Him. Michael. The Shape had found you. He had found you and gotten his hands on you. The memory of his grip on you made it difficult to breathe and with vertigo still holding onto you, you fell to the ground. As you heaved for breath you could feel your pulse drum underneath your temple. He had found you. You hadn’t been safe, he had had his way with you. He had managed to get you because you were alone. You were alone now too. He would find you. Tears began to form as you dug your hands into the soil. It was cold and damp, yet didn’t feel right. You knew it wasn’t real, as The Entity would never have the power to create something that could grow and create as well. All it did was copy something greater. 

Suddenly there was a sound in the air that stopped your shaking. In fact, you froze. It was a melody you hadn’t heard in the longest of times. Before, it had instilled terror into your being, but now it left you with a much more cold feeling; a cold shower of realization washed over you and dipped into every vein underneath your skin. All around you was the faint sound of children singing in eery notes and it could only mean one thing – you were in a trial. The fact that you hadn’t realized the moment you could smell the pungent smell of corn baffled you to your core. You were in a trial. You had actually been taken back into a trial which meant you weren’t at the campsite anymore. You weren’t trapped in an endless cycle of sitting on an uncomfortable log and watching the flames. You were back… in another hell. Another cycle where the difference would be the addition of death and blood. You were back in the hell that had grabbed you into its clutches once again as it had done such a long time ago. You could feel the press of tears as your throat ached. If you were in a trial, if you truly were back playing death’s game, it meant that he could find you again. He had back at the campsite, but it had taken the longest time. This was worse. It was so much worse to be back.

Just as you brushed a running tear away with your dirty hand, a set of footsteps and the sound of pained whimpers came closer before it passed on your left. It was a quick movement, but you had that the figure had been Jane, as she travelled further into the field. As you stared after her for a quick moment, noticing the small splats of blood sinking into the soil, a second pair of footsteps hurried after. The singing children’s voices rose in volume as the sound of sharp metal sliding against each other cut through the atmosphere. As a reflex, you ducked down closer to the dirt floor and held your breath before he passed you to follow his prey. His stride was determined, yet somewhat playful as he seemed pleased with finding one of you as early as he did. Your heart was beating hast in your chest as you saw his figure disappear between the long trails of corn. As the children’s voices faded into the background you breathed again and softened up your muscles that had been clenched. In a way, you felt like crying again, but this time because of relief. It was The Nightmare you were up against, not Michael. There was no way to describe the feeling that surged through your body as you shakily rose to your feet. You felt dizzy as the aftermath of your sudden surge of adrenaline began to dab down, a sharp prickle in its stead. 

There was a moment you just breathed in the brisk air, just… existing. Your body was riddled with goosebumps, but the fact that there was a cold air chilling you opened your eyes to a fact you hadn’t even noticed when you had opened your eyes to the fields surrounding you. The sensation of the chilly air made you realize that it was, in fact, the only thing you felt physically. There was no pain. No sharp bite from the cut on your chest, nor dull sting from the bitemarks that riddled your body. There was no prominent ache between your thighs. The bruises he had left on your body was gone – in fact, you could probably check underneath your shirt and you would find no indication that he had ever taken his fill of you. Instead, your hand trembled as you rose it up to your neck, feeling around for a mark that was no more. You could help the choked sound that was both a sob and a small laugh. You couldn’t feel him; at least not physically, and with all things considered you couldn’t help but see it as a win.

A pained scream cut through the air and a chill rose through you. You had been in such a trans-like state you hadn’t realized how long you had stood at the same spot. It had been a woman’s scream, and whilst you had never been in a trial with her before, you could only guess that it was Jane. Before you thought better of it, your instincts forced your feet into action, and you ran off in her direction.

It was slightly harder to run through the fields than you had thought. The soil was wet and heavy and your footsteps sank slightly into it with every step, and you also had to push the corn out of your way as you sprinted forward. Though you had run through the fields many times before, it had been such a long time since then, and so you couldn’t help but notice the extra effort you had to push into every step. Still, there was no helping the surreal feeling that coursed through you as closed in on the edge of the field. During your imprisonment at the fire, you had never been able to run somewhere; your bare feet would have been cut up and Adam’s coat wasn’t exactly athletic clothing. It was obvious that the greatest reason was that you had not dared to leave the safety of the campsite, but with what had happened there, there was now a feeling of security lost. He had made sure of that. Your breath hitched the moment his white mask flashed in your mind but it didn’t stop your steps.

As you slowed down to a stop when you passed the line that began the corn-line, your lungs felt cold and you breathed heavily. You knew that your body didn’t really change in the fog, and you knew your endurance and speed had not suffered during your ‘pause’ but it was obvious that your technique had gotten rusty. You pushed it out of your mind as you carefully went between a couple of old oil tanks. With a loud sound ringing through the air you gasped before you hurriedly ducked down. It took a second, but after you had felt so dumb. It had been the sound of a generator far off on the other side. Not hearing any children singing around you, you quickly move into action and travel between the wooden walls that surrounded the hook. You remembered that you and the other survivors had called them jungle gyms, but you could not remember why or how the conversation had gone – it was foggy.

You had been correct earlier, and it had been Jane that had been hanged. She was whimpering lightly as she tried not to move too much. You grabbed a hold of her and lifted her from the hook, but accidentally your hold on one side slipped and she got re-impaled slightly and she wailed out.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whispered. You really were out of it. With a stronger grip, you made sure to pick her off right this time and helped her down. You felt tears begin to form as you kept apologizing to her before she stopped you.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just help me with the wound.” She directed you towards the med-kit that laid underneath her hook. You opened it up whilst she removed her blazer and unbuttoned her dress shirt. Shakily you poured some antiseptic onto a piece of cotton, almost spilling more on your hand. You knew there would be no time for the wound to get infected, but it helped to see the wound if you cleaned away the excess blood. She winced when you dabbed it against her, and when you had washed away the red you reached back into the kit. Your fingers trembled as you tried to thread the needle. This was wrong. This was so wrong and you couldn’t help but realize that this was all too familiar. For a second it wasn’t Jane that was in front of you trying to bite back her pain, it was Kate. Last time you had tried to heal up Kate he had taken away your everything. He had had his way with you and you had been so weak. So pathetic. It was how it all had started. How you had managed to run into action when you had heard Jane, was a mystery as your muscles clenched up and your breath hitched. Tears fell as you got more and more frustrated as the seconds passed without you managing to thread the damn needle. A shout startled you into dropping them on the ground as you gasped.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let me do it, alright? Just breathe,” Jane’s voice was soft and calm, only a little strained as she continued, “You go save Adam, I’ll do this, it’s fine.” You could tell that she just didn’t want your shaky hands to stitch up wrong and make the damage even worse. It hurt to know that she’d rather you leave, but it was the similarities of the situations that was the true problem. You tried to voice your uneasiness, but the words wouldn’t form, and before you knew it she had picked up the needle and thread up from the dirt. She began to strain her neck to look at the damage as you uneasily rose to your feet. You felt nauseated as you turned your back to Jane. All you wanted was to puke your guts out on cry. This was all wrong. Taking a deep breath you made your way back into the cornfield to cross over to the corner where Adam hung.

As you closed in on him, the familiar and disturbing sound of children singing reached your ears. You had been a bit slow at first, trying to calm your breathing and focus on your task. It seemed that The Nightmare was closer this time. Just as you passed a generator you stopped hurriedly. The machinery was sputtering sparks of light, and guessing from the two pistons working quickly and the third slowly, you deduced that it had been kicked. You backtracked a few steps before you quickly grabbed a hold of the chain that was spinning against the clock and stopped its hurried descent. It was always best to stop the degradation of generators before saving, you all had agreed on. With it saved you went on through the corn. In front of you, you could see Adam struggling to fight off the invading limbs of The Entity. Without thinking you sprinted into action, but just the moment you passed the opening between the walls of stacked hay, a great force hit you. The force knocked you so hard to the ground that it knocked the air out of you. As you heaved for breath you noticed that it had been David that had run into you. Or had it been you running into him? You couldn’t be sure, but at the moment you finally got your breath back, David cried out. Shifting over you saw The Nightmare kneeling over him with his sharp knives impaling the brit straight through the abdomen. They had probably been in a chase and with you and David crashing into each other, it had been easy to get him. The Nightmare was grinning as he stared down at your fallen comrade, but his smile fell the moment he turned and looked at you.

A horrible chill ran down your spine, and you rose to your feet quicker than ever. Without looking back you sprinted towards Adam. There was still a distance between you, but your adrenaline pumped faster with every step and so pushed you forward. You didn’t get far before you gasped and felt a hand around your forearm pulling you back. As a reflex, you hurriedly turned back to The Dream Demon, and apparently, you had managed to catch him off guard as both your palms connected with his chest and you pushed him away from you. You cried out, however, the moment he staggered back since he had already been ready to give you a slice, and so you felt the deep bite of his finger-knives down along your arm. Without further delay, you ran off towards the house. Adam would need to get the help from either David or Jane as The Nightmare pursued you. 

You couldn’t have explained your mindset at the moment as it was so chaotic. One part of you was far too disturbed to think clearly and made you want to throw up, whilst, the other acted purely on instinct. There was no elaborate thinking of strategy, nor a clever wish to outsmart The Killer; there was simply a strong will for survival that forced that came with all of your previous matches. You didn’t think, you just ran.

As your feet met the plank wood of the crooked house, your speed increased, no longed dampened by the wet soil of the farmland. Instead of running upstairs, you just hurried straight through the building, the screech of clashing metal close behind you. You didn’t know if Adam had been saved or not, but you could only hope. You had your own problems and as of right now, that problem had four scarp blades that har your name on them. Sprinting down the small staircase out to the side of the house you almost stumbled as your feet hit the earth quicker than you had anticipated. Still, the adrenaline forced your muscles to continue and so you managed to push off. In front of you was an old fence who’s white painting was peeling off and had a weird yellow hue to it. Between them, there was a stack of boards and you hurriedly pulled them down behind you to get some space between you. The Nightmare had been closer than you had thought and he collided with the pallet and groaned. As you quickened in between a jungle gym you could hear him cursing you out whilst he broke the stack of wood apart.

You slowed your pace down to a walk in the hopes of losing him. It was then that your body allowed you to truly feel the bite of his knives. The wounds were deep and the pain worse. Blood was trailing down your arm, dripping from your fingertips as you bit your whimpers back. The sensation of feeling no pain had been brief and now you were back at it again. Still, there was no contest where The Nightmare’s attacks would be worse than that of The Shape’s. Slowly you crept around another wall as you heard his steps come closer, the singing louder.

“I gotta say I was real surprised when I saw your face,” his voice was gruff, yet clearly amused, “Thought you had been taken away by The Big Boss.” You slowly dragged yourself against the wooden planks as you tried to avoid him, eyesight going dizzy at the bloodloss.

“It really hurts Mr Freddy’s feelings when you avoid him, you know? One could just about…,” his voice suddenly stopped.

“DIE!” before you could react he had grabbed ahold around your midsection and arms, pulling you through the window. He had snuck up behind you and just as you had passed the window he attacked. You screamed but your voice died the moment he slammed you into the ground. The wounds burned as they were filled with soil and small rocks and your breath was almost knocked out. A dark shoe kicked at your shoulder, forcing you onto your back. Your head rang as you looked up at the man towering over you, a grotesque grin on his burned face.

“Oh yeah, I’ve missed this. I don’t like it when my toys disappear,” Freddy sneered as his foot stomped down at your chest, pressing harshly on your lungs. You began coughing as tears rolled down into your hairline. Your hands went automatically to his ankle, trying to push him off. The hand that was covered in blood started shaking.

“You should get that cleaned, could get infected.”

“Go to hell,” you spat back at him through clenched teeth. The pain increased as he pushed down harder.

His grin turned even wider as he spoke, “Aren’t we already here? Last time I checked this was a place where you all died over and over again. Speaking of…” Roughly he kicked away your hands and removed his foot. Just as you inhaled a huge breath of air he kneeled down over you and grabbed ahold of your top and pulled you up against him, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen your organs.” It wasn’t his words, but the horrifying smell of burned flesh that made you choke, it was his actions. He was close – too close. This was wrong. The moment Freddy’s hand went around your neck you spasmed. Ignoring the pain in your upper arm, aggressively grabbed a hold of his hand with yours and began to struggle. The grip around your neck was different, yet familiar. Familiar to him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you cried, “Michael! Stop!” There was a moment of silence.

“Michael?” You froze the moment you heard the name on his lips. Shit.

“Michael,” Freddy’s smile fell as he stopped for a second to think of what you said, “Isn’t that The Shape? The big guy with a knife?” his voice was almost accusatory as he pulled away to look at you. You hurriedly looked away as you shoved at his hand trying desperately to get him to release you. His knife-wielding hand grabbed a hold of your chin, the leather glove rough with its sharp blades touching your skin dangerously close, “What has he got to do with this?” His eyes bore into yours, a dark red that brought a horrible shiver down your spine. You now knew you’d take the campsite’s continuous circle of nothing compared to his aggressive interrogation. Still, you couldn’t help but be baffled by the situation at hand. Here you were; back in a trial with one of The Killers talking to you. As in a conversation almost. His eyes darted down from your face and ran across your body as he studied you. Before you could think better of it your hands went directly to cover your most private of places, even though you already were dressed. His eyes turned to slits as the corners of his mouth once again rose into a grotesque grin that would frighten even the bravest. With a purely sadistic expression, he began to chuckle.

“So that’s what you’ve been up to, huh? Having some fun times with The Big Guy?” his voice was dripping with venomous amusement as he released your chin to glide one knife down your cheek, “The Shape of Haddonfield got himself a fucktoy; and a quivering one at that! Got to be a real masochistic bitch for you throw yourself at him, huh?” His words cut deeply as you whimpered. He was wrong!

“How did it feel to get fucked by a person murdering you? Did it feel bad? Did it feel good? Come on, you can tell dear old Freddy,” his face was close to yours now, whispering ungodly things to you. You cried as you tried to push him off you. You couldn’t help but scream the moment his knives re-entered your arm, now directly going through.

“Still, it doesn’t explain how you’ve been missing whilst he’s been having his trials now does it?” he continued with a colder voice now. You barely acknowledged his words as your tears poured and you cried out at the sudden direct pain. The loud sound of a generator being powered up rang through the terrain. He cursed under his breath as the hand that had its grip around your neck was moved to your chest and harshly pushed you back and away from him. With the violent shove, the knives left your wound and your back knocked into the ground. Everything hurt.

“Guess that’s gotta be for another day, sweetheart. Still, you’ve been real helpful now haven’t you?” Through your blurred eyesight, you stared up at him in confusion, the mix of tears and bloodloss heavy on your being. He wasn’t a tall man, at least not taller than The Shape, but the moment he rose to a stand above you, he was tall enough. Tall enough to tower above you like the malevolent demon he was. Noticing your uncertainty, he smiled down and continued, “I know that The Shape’s been having his trials without disturbances of The Big Boss, so something tells me it wouldn’t mind if I joined in.”

His statement froze your entire body. No, no he wouldn’t? He couldn’t? You couldn’t do anything as horror ran through every fibre of your being. For too long he stared down at your exhausted body with a wicked grin. Still, it was only for so long he could stay silent.  
“Nah, sorry to disappoint you, princess, but there’s someone else that’s first in line, so until then, have fun down there, and thanks again!” With a tip of his hat, he went on his way, most likely to find your teammates.

“Wait!” you gasped as you turned yourself onto your stomach, leaning on your healthy arm. The other one was shredded and with all the blood that flowed, it wasn’t hard to know he had cut through an artery. It would all be over soon. He froze on the spot, only a couple of meters away. He turned around with a smirk, “What? You feel entitled to some playtime?” He was clearly amused. You ignored his words.

“Can you guys get to the campsite? To us?” your voice was shaky and dull and you had lost the feeling in your legs. His smile dropped as he stopped at your question. For a second you were worried that he wouldn’t answer your question. You needed to know.

“Yes and no. We can walk around it but there is a limit. Can’t cross past those logs you all keep sitting on. Apparently, we only get to slaughter you piggies when The Big Boss wants to.”

His words were worse than you had anticipated. Way worse. Everything around you froze as your eyes went to the ground. It was your fault. It was your fault that he had gotten you. It all dawned on you, splashing over you like a wave of frozen water. Michael had gotten to you because he had managed to trick you. He had outsmarted you again. Whilst you had been so emotionally disrupted he had used his hindrance to his advantage. He knew there was a barrier to you that he couldn’t cross, it stopped by the logs, but he hadn’t stopped there. He hadn’t even been close to the logs surrounding the fire, he had stopped earlier. He had played with you, letting you believe that your safe area was larger than it truly was, and you had played right into his hand! Your emotional need to let him know how much you hated him, how much he had hurt you, had pushed you over to him, across the barrier! All he had to do was wait for you to walk straight into his trap and you did!

As the realization hit you, you fell over to your back once more. There was no power left in your muscles. Freddy had walked off at some point, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter if he left you on the ground to bleed out or if he ripped out your heart, no one could ever hurt you as badly as Him… as badly as you had done to yourself. With everything growing dark, there was both relief and sorrow that burned inside your heart as you closed your eyes. He might have gotten you again, but his need for manipulation only showed that there were rules he too had to follow – that there were things even he couldn’t do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading this chapter! I was a bit uncertain about this chapter, as I felt that I was unable to truly write as well as I hope to, but this was more of a "information"-chapter, which is why it is so much shorter than my usual chapters.
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope to hear from you all, and that you'll come back for the upcoming chapter, where we'll go back to our McStab Man~


	3. Short on Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHHHH MY GOOD THIS TOOK AGES I AM SO SORRY!!
> 
> I've been wanting to finish this damn chapter for ages, and I finally did! This lil bitch of a chapter has been sitting 82% done for so many months and I have hated every moment of it.  
> These months have, however, been a mess. I've had a several long and tough exams, my aunt died in November, I worked almost every single day in December, and I've moved into a student flat.
> 
> So much has been happening and without my daily train trips to Uni, (since I now take the bus), I haven't been able to write when I used to, and I've simply been bad at managing my time. I've had breakdowns and painful experiences, and a writer's block straight from hell.
> 
> So much has happened and I never intended for it to take such a long time for me to continue this story. I want to apologize to everyone for my tardiness, and I want you to know I am back and I am ready to continue.
> 
> So please, without further ado, enjoy this longer than average chapter, and let me say; it is good to be back~

The moment your eyes opened, you were bombarded with the voices of your teammates. Nea was shouting at you and Kate was inspecting your body for injuries. A lot of the others were at camp as well, such as Dwight, Bill, Jeff, Laurie and Jake, but it was the first mentioned that was the loudest of the bunch. You were back by the cursed fire.

“Where the hell were you? We were summoned into trials and when we came back you were gone! All we found was Adam’s ripped coat lying outside the camp”, Nea gestured to the soiled white cloth that was in Laurie’s hands. At first, you had been startled, the contrast between the familiar abyss-like darkness of The Entity and the lit-up fire. It didn’t cloud you for long, but as you continued to stare at the splashes of red and the obvious rip of the fabric, it all became clearer. The Entity had set it all up. It had taken the others away into trials, giving Michael the possibility of getting to you. However, with the barrier protecting you from the killers around the camp, Michael would only win if you crossed the barrier – which you had done on your own accord. It hurt badly the moment it really hit you. Michael had had his way with you, and the others had returned to find you gone.

“We all thought you were missing! You’ve been out of the game for so long that you could have been anywhere,” her accusing yells hurt you. It wasn’t as if you could control any of it. No one knew what happened if you died outside of trials; or rather, no one knew that until now.

“I’m sorry,” you didn’t manage to voice anything else, the frustration and the pain being too much and your voice too small. You didn’t want to fight with the others. They were all you had. Your eyes glossed over as you spoke, “He was here.”

An eery silence breezed through the camp as everyone froze at your words. Eyes flicked between each other as they all thought the same thing: The Killers could be at the fire. Nea had gone mute, simply staring at your face in disbelief. Kate had dropped your arm as if your skin had burned her. Laurie had dropped the shirt as she clearly trembled. The guys stood in silence before Bill spoke up.

“So, this isn’t such a safe place,” he muttered as he stared down at the tip of his cigarette. It had always been a curious object that one. Bill’s cigarette was one of the objects that had been frozen in time; never burning out on its own. You could destroy it like any normal one, but if he did, it would always be back in his pocket the next time he was in a trial or back at camp. It was truly a curious artefact at this point. Bill’s features showed clearly his concern as his brows were deeply furrowed and his eyes squinted. He had rarely opened up about his past before The Fog, and it was understandable, with all of the events he had lived through. As a younger man, he had been in the Vietnam War, as was a given by the military uniform he wore. Still, it was his stories about fighting infected humans and zombies that was unbelievable. Apparently, he had sacrificed himself to save the group he had been surviving with, and that was when The Entity picked him up. 

Bill’s past was one of the greatest puzzle-pieces that had proved the theory that The Entity was an interdimensional deity and that all of you could be from different times and places. There was a lot of similarities between most of your worlds, but there were a few pointers that proved there were differences. For Detective Tapp it had been 2004 when he was picked up, and he had been chasing down The Jigsaw Killer, a murderer that you and the others had never heard about. Jeff’s last memory was from doing a mural painting for some teens in 1996, and apparently, Ash had been fighting evil creatures called “deadites” since the ’80s until he had been taken in 2018. The one that was perhaps the earliest of you survivors to have been grabbed by The Entity was Laurie, who had disappeared from her hometown in 1978. There had been a lot of interesting conversations with her, where people have tried to explain the internet to her and the multi-tool of a smartphone, but the ladder had more than just her heard of. Listening to Laurie’s curiosity and Bill’s gruff take on the need for this “fancy ol technical stuff” had been one of your sources of amusement when you had been trapped at the fire. Still, you couldn’t help the bad feeling in your gut, whenever you thought about it. In your world, technology and science, society would move on without you in it. It hurt to know that you wouldn’t be there to see the future of your life, of your friends and family, and to not be a part of it. You didn’t want to think of it. It hurt too much; like a regretful memory, you knew you couldn’t change.  
You hadn’t realized you had gotten lost in thought until you were startled by Kate’s hand on your shoulder, saying your name softly. You didn’t intend it, but you shrugged her hand off quickly out of reflex. She retracted her hand quickly as if burned. She muttered a sorry, and you gave her an apologetic look. You felt bad, but you didn’t want to be touched right now – or any more. Before anyone of you could say anything else, a dark mist began to form on the other side of the fire. As the smoke rose upwards, it faded away, leaving a hot-headed Brit in its place.

“Bloody fucking ‘ell, I hate that burnt piece of shite,” yelled David as he angrily sat down beside Dwight. Everyone stared at him, expecting him to continue telling what had happened, “It all started with me an Jane workin on a gen, right? And what do ya know; that bastard wasn’t far away so of fuckings course he comes to stop the party an then he ran after her whilst I had to jus-“ it was always difficult to follow David’s stories – not because of his heavy accent, but more because he always got fired up and would stumble around with what he intended on saying. Sometimes he could be telling a long story about the crazy moments he and his mates had together, and even though no one managed to piece out what the story was about, you would all still laugh. David King was an entertaining man, even if it wasn’t because of the factors he thought. You weren’t sure when you had spaced out, but it was his sudden rise from the log that shook you back.

“Holy fuck! You were in a trial, mate!” he yelled and before you could react he had grabbed ahold of your upper arms and almost shook you, “How in the bloody hell did you get there? I didn’t know you were with us before we smacked into each other!” his grip was strong and your pulse rose as you tried to push him away. Just as he finished speaking, Jake grabbed a hold of his shoulder and pulled him off you. Jake wasn’t a loud person himself, but he firmly told him to back off, before giving you a reassuring nod. David apologized after he realized he was making you uncomfortable. David wasn’t a bad guy, he was just eccentric and would often forget that not everyone could play as roughly as he and his blokes. Still, it was obvious that his hands felt wrong.

\---

Not long after that Adam had returned to the campsite as well. Just like the others, he had been surprised to see you. It was obvious though that he had been both disgusted and disturbed the moment Laurie had handed him back his coat. It had been ripped and covered in dirt and blood, so without further thought, he had thrown it into the fire. At first, you all had been a bit surprised, but he had deduced that he would most likely receive it again fresh and new after he entered a new trial. As much as he didn’t want it, considering what had happened to whilst wearing it, he had been right and thus had been wearing the coat once again when he returned from the trial.

You did as well. It appeared that Michael killing you had been the trigger that had pushed you back into the old circle of dying in trials once more. Some of the killers had shown their surprise, but most had not reacted nor spoken to you. When facing The Wraith you could have sword he had been studying your face a bit too long after hooking you. It seemed that you had changed something, as there was a different feeling in the air. You had yet to have met The Shape again, but a bad feeling in your guts told you that it was a Russian roulette situation, and at some point, the gun would take its shot. You had a bad feeling in your guts, and you couldn’t help but connect it to him.

\---

It seemed that no one was in a gaming mood; you included. You had just left a trial and were standing close to the fire, poking it mindlessly with a stick. At the moment you didn’t feel like wanting entertainment, and none of the others at the camp were willing to perform anything either. Jake was sitting on one of the logs, fidgeting with the edge of his scarf. Apparently, it had ripped at the end his last match when he had jumped through a window – the woollen fabric getting stuck on a nail. He didn’t seem too bothered, but there wasn’t a lot else to do than pick at the threads. He had been sitting there before you got picked up, and apparently hadn’t been in a trial in the meanwhile.

Your trial had gone to shit. You had faced The Pig with Quentin, Bill and Laurie, the last two still in trial. Laurie was a survivor, and whilst Bill was good at keeping the team alive, there was only so much he could do. Even though it had at least been 12 trials since the one against The Nightmare, you still weren’t back in the game. After such a long time sitting on the bench, or log, you were rusty. The backlash was bad and you often found yourself alone trying to survive. As much as they tried to help, it was obvious you were more of a burden, and that they were slowly distancing themselves from you. Still, you couldn’t be mad at them as they had to consider their own survival. They couldn’t all sacrifice themselves just because you couldn’t cope. Even though you could know who the killer was there was no helping the paranoia and the feeling of never being alone. The fear that The Shape was watching was always lingering even if you could hear The Nurse’s screech or The Hillbilly’s chainsaw being revved up. You couldn’t escape Michael and at some point, your paths would cross again.

Quentin hadn’t been a lot of help either and seemed to have slipped somewhat as well. Whilst you had been working on a generator, he had been trying to take one of The Pig’s contraptions off his head close by you. Through a couple of hay balls, you were able to see him. You weren’t sure if he knew you were there or not, but he had kept on failing when trying to reach for the key inside the jigsaw box. It had ended with him just stopping, leaning onto the machine and closing his eyes before the reverse beartrap did its job. You had been lucky that game; managing to get the helmet off in time and only dying because of The Pig’s knife being shoved deeply between your ribs. It felt better somehow. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about him, as the others too had been asking him about his more reoccurring mistakes. He had been pretty deflective, excusing it as his head not being in the right place. Right now Quentin was just staring absentmindedly into the flames, seemingly lost in thought. When you looked at him you couldn’t help but feel that he was avoiding your gaze. It hurt, but you knew you couldn’t force him to interact with you. Everyone was so distant.

After a while, Claudette was brought back to camp. She coughed slightly as the dark smoke around her evaporated. She quietly sat down beside Jake, both giving each other a smile.

“How’d it go?” he asked her, turning back to his scarf.

“Not too great. It was The Trapper and I wasn’t as careful as I should have been and managed to step in his trap twice,” she replied before covering her face with her hands. He gave her a little push with his elbow and her groan turned into a giggle, “I thought you’d be better at that, Claude, with how you’re always hiding in bushes,” he taunted her.

“Stop it,” she pushed him back playfully, “It’s not easy when he puts his traps at random places. I didn’t go through a window or anything I was just walking between the trees and what do you know? I’m stuck and in pain.” It was nice to see them interact. Especially since neither were all that extroverted. Still, there was a bond that brought them close; the bond of ending up in this never-ending cycle of Hell together, and then managing to work together. The four original ones, them, Meg and Dwight couldn’t remember when they arrived at The Fog, but they would never forget their first trials together. Before their time here, Jake had been a lone wolf who didn’t want the responsibilities of his birthright, and instead chose his own path of solitude in the forest. Claudette as well wasn’t a very social person and had only a couple of online friends, which she now couldn’t remember the names of. Still, they had changed with their time in The Fog and had learned to adapt. Thus, in a way, their old selves were a part of the past, and they were becoming the people they needed to be to survive.

Not too long after, Jeff too arrived through the black smoke. He simply huffed out tiredly before sitting down beside Quentin. At some point you had sat back down, feeling too much in front of everyone standing in the middle, and so you sat down on a log. It had taken some time before you dared to sit on them since they were basically on the edge of the barrier protecting you. From now on you never dared to sit on the logs unless someone was sitting opposite of you. They would see if anyone, or rather if a certain someone, would try and sneak up on you. Thus, Claudette and Jake were now sitting in front of you.

Feng Min arrived the moment you sat down and she made a greater entrance than those two before her. The moment she came to, her face became a scowl and she kicked a pebble into the fire whilst cursing in Chinese. From your experience, it usually wasn’t the best idea to put other things than offerings into the fire, and before you knew it, the little stone shot forward from the flames, now hot, and hit Feng Min on the thigh. With her wearing shorts, she yelped at the hot pain. People giggled slightly.

The calm and quiet atmosphere quickly soured the moment Meg returned as well after a while longer. She hit the ground pretty badly, the fall from the hatch brutal as she failed to land on her feet. All of you rose quickly, and you felt your heart drop the moment you saw her back. She was only in her sports bra, tights and shoes, and her back was covered in sooty and bloody handprints. She was already shaking the moment Claudette reached her and helped her up in a sitting position. You froze the moment you saw her teary and sooty face. Her front as well. It almost looked like she had been cleaning a chimney. 

Whilst Claudette cradled her, asking her what had happened and trying to calm her cries, you reached out to support her as well, only for her to slap your hand away in fury. The look she gave you had a chill run down your back. She rose up, her face portraying emotions you knew far too well – fury and pain. 

“This is your fault,” she spat as she shivered. Now standing it was easier to see what had happened to Meg. Her bra as well looked dishevelled, with parts of it rolled wrong, as if she had been in a hurry. You were shocked. She was blaming you? Before you managed to reply something, she yelled at you, “If you hadn’t come back to the trials he wouldn’t have touched me!” You were too frozen to react the moment she pushed you harshly. You managed to stand your ground, however.

“Who’s he?” you managed to stutter before she pushed you again.

“Who do you fucking think? The Trapper! He told me that the rules had changed! That he was allowed to do what he wanted to me because of you! Because of you and the fucking Shape!” she was screamed as she continued to go at you. You were baffled.

“I had managed to evade him all game, and then he grabs me whilst I’m vaulting over the pallet! Next thing I know he’s pushing me down on a crate and he-“ she was sobbing at this point, her voice hurt and broken. Her last push was a lot more aggressive than the other and before you knew it you fell. Luckily Quentin had been behind you and had managed to catch your fall, but you weren’t safe from Meg’s fury just yet, “He ripped off my clothes and touched me! All because of you, you useless bitch!” Just as she was about to take a grab at you, Jake took hold of Meg and pulled her back. The moment he touched her she recoiled and started to scream at him to let her go, but he kept his hold firm.

“Meg! That’s enough!” he commanded firmly. She did not stop her fighting.

It was at this moment something sparked ablaze inside of you. It was similar to the feeling of anguish you had felt last time you were with The Shape. When you told him off. The pain and anger you felt built up and before you knew it you spoke up, your voice almost not your own.

“You’re blaming me? Are you fucking kidding me?” your voice shivered as your blood boiled. To think she had the audacity, “Are you blaming me for getting raped? Because The Shape ruined my life? Me as a person? How fucking dare you?” Tears began to form as your voice rose in volume. Harshly you pushed off from Quentin before you stalked towards her.

“You think I wanted this? To feel constantly paranoid and like a burden to everyone?! To know that you’re all talking about me behind my back like I’m something broken?! Like I’m a liability and something useless?! It fucking hurts! And the worst part is that you’re right! I am broken! Michael ripped me apart from the inside because he could! Because he wanted to and had the power to do it! I’m a fucking broken toy for this murderer and I can’t find a way to piece myself back together!” Now you cried openly as you yelled at her. You had stopped right before her, Jeff blocking you with his arm. You didn’t care.

“Yes, I’m fucking useless, but don’t you dare blame me for this! As much as I hate myself I know that I’m not the reason to why he did this to you! It was Freddy who told the others and what they did with that information is not my fault!” You were done. You were over it. Over how she looked at you with spiteful eyes. How she had venomously spat her anger and taken it out on you. You felt your heart breaking in two. Meg was supposed to be your teammate – your friend. But still, you couldn’t help the rage that flamed inside of you either. So much anger and hate were coursing through your veins because of how much you had repressed it all this time. You were not going to let her walk over you too.

“Freddy?”

You were just about to continue your aggressive yelling at her, but you stopped at the sound of Quentin’s voice. You turned around to look back at him. Your heart dropped the moment you saw him. His lip was bleeding and was holding his chin. It then dawned on you, as you realized your elbow ached, that you had hit him in the face with it.

“You told Freddy?” he asked. You didn’t know what to say as you stared at each other. The others were completely silent; the only sound being heard was the crackling fire.

“I’m sorry,” came from your lips before you managed to stop the words. The look of betrayal on his face woke you up and you desperately continued, “I mean no! I didn’t! I didn’t mean to! He figured it out and I couldn’t stop him!” you cried at Quentin as you tried to come closer. The moment your hands reached for him he stepped away. Your eyes were glued to his as you both stared at each other in silence. He looked tired. Not just physically, but psychologically exhausted. You weren’t sure if it was the look of loss on his face or what it was, but then it hit you. In the back of your mind, there was the creeping voice of The Dream Demon; rough and sadistic.

“Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but there’s someone else that’s first in line…”

You couldn’t say anything. You didn’t need to because he knew. Quentin knew that you knew. The one first in line had been him. You felt a tear fall the moment his lips turned upwards in the most desolate and most empty way you had ever seen. Here you were, crying and screaming your pain out at them, and then he- you dared not think the thought.

“Quentin, I’m-“

“Don’t… just don’t,” his voice was cold as he turned around without another look and sat back down at the log. You didn’t realize you still stared at him until you heard Meg mutter something under her breath before she shoved Jake off, who stepped back. She too sat down at another and turned away from you; her arms holding tightly around herself. You tried to look at Jake, but he had already taken off his jacket to cover Meg with it. You looked at Jeff who turned away uncomfortably. Claudette refused to look as well.  
You wanted to say something, but there was nothing that could be said. Your worst fear was coming to life around you. Your teammates were fading away into the horizon as you watched them, like a ghost unable to contact them nor reach out. There was an uncomfortable vibe that soared through your veins and it told you that the others would see you differently now.

\---

Things had not gotten better; worse in fact. It didn’t take long for the others to hear about your fight with Meg, and what had happened to her. As much as you knew it was wrong of you, you couldn’t help the anger that arose the moment you thought of how the others would take her side. Well, they didn’t really say it, but you knew it was implied. Meg was one of the original ones, someone who was good at this game and she was someone people trusted. You, on the other hand, were a newer member compared to her, and you had lots of marks on your report card. You had heard in detail later that Meg had managed to escape The Trapper before anything too explicit happened. He had groped at her and had been horrible, but she had apparently managed to hit him in the face with the front of the flashlight and he had dropped her. She had been lucky and had found the hatch before he caught up with her. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help how it infuriated you that she hadn’t even experienced 10% of the pain you had, and they took her side.

Quentin too, which you had thought would stay by your side was ignoring you. Most times in trials you would die on the first hook because no one came for you. The only times you truly could trust your teammates was if you were with Kate, Nea, Jeff or Claudette. The other’s would save you, but there was a lesser chance of it. As sad you had been before about being a burden to your team, you had noticed that with time the sadness had turned into determined anger. You were still saving your friends, but you could only guess that your survival instinct was beginning to grow, the more alone you became. You couldn’t say if you were glad about it or not.

Still, the fact that The Nightmare had been a whistleblower had proven to be worse than first anticipated. You, Quentin and Meg, had experienced the horrors of The Killers having free reign and it also didn’t take long before Feng Min joined the fray. She had been limping back from a trial once, covered in blood, and twitching slightly. Her clothes had been dishevelled and she had passed out the moment she arrived back at camp. When she had woken up she had told you all that it was The Doctor who had had his way with her, binding her down to one of the hospital beds. After he was done torturing her he had opened the gate and pushed her out to show you all his handiwork. That was the trial that changed everything. You had all been shocked at hearing that a killer had managed to open up one of the exit gates. It had never been a possibility, or rather, none of the killers had done anything like it before. And not too soon after, Jeff had returned from a match telling you all how The Spirit had closed the hatch on him. He had been running towards it and she had faced there before him and stared him down before slamming her sword into the ground, closing the hatch. He had died afterwards. None of you were sure of why it all was happening, but you could only guess it had something to do with some of the killers changing their objective. You hadn’t experienced any of the changes, but you were quick to realise you would the moment you entered a new trial and a familiar burn seeped into your bones.

\---

As you breathed heavily trying to calm your rising pulse, you grabbed a hold of the cold and wet log on your left. You almost slipped but managed to lean your weight on it as you heaved for breath. The molten lava in your veins was a strong contrast to your skin that got more and more chilly with every drop of rain. It was always such a cool temperature in The Red Forest, which your teammates had named the place. With every second you managed to stop your tremors and within the minute there was only a dull numbness present.

You took in your surroundings as you crouched behind the log. It was always smarter to do some reconnaissance to check if The Killer was in the area. The Killer. There was no hiding the fact that this round you would face The Shape. Michael. The moment you thought of his name you felt a painful tremor run through every vein and bloodstream. There was no discussion, you knew the painful sensation of being someone’s obsession maybe even more than any of the others. You tried to calm yourself as you stared into the misty environment around you. As much as the rain had felt cold and comforting against your skin compared to the fire on your insides, it was clear that it wasn't really raining. You couldn’t describe it, but it felt wrong. As if it truly wasn’t water. It was the same at the snowy mountain you sometimes were sent to. Even though its grassy floor was covered in white snow over there, it wasn’t as cold as one would imagine. Memories of cold and frozen winters were fading for you, but you could still tell the difference from that and The Entity’s illusions.

Around you, it was silent, with no movements in the distance other than the crows perched on top of different trees, stones and logs – The Entity’s little spies. With careful steps you went towards your right, spotting the lights of a generator not yet fired up. You weren’t sure why the pain of being The Obsession didn’t hurt as much as it used to. As you passed a set of wooden walls you could only come to the chilling conclusion that you had gotten somewhat used to pain. It was a horrible feeling and it made you want to throw up, but you could imagine that after the long time you had been at the campsite, you had gotten used to it. You couldn’t help but gasp as you accidentally walked into Dwight. 

“Oh, sorry!” you said lowly as you steadied yourself. He grabbed a hold of his glasses that had almost fallen off his nose. He looked rather uncomfortable as he apologized as well. You stared at each other for a few seconds not saying anything. It wounded you to realize that he was uneasy in your presence, just like most of the others. You wanted to say something, but before you could, Ash walked in as well.

“What are you two doing just standing there? We got a job to do,” his tone wasn’t stern, but he held a leader-like strength that broke the awkward moment. He walked past both of you and began working on the generator. You didn’t look back at Dwight and simply sat down beside Ash. For a second you wondered why Dwight hadn’t sat down as well, but the question was answered the moment you turned your head back to him. He was breaking apart a totem. You turned back to the work at hand, before you spoke up.

“It’s Him,” you whispered, scared of saying his name and worried that your words could summon him. Ash didn’t seem to catch your drift as he raised an eyebrow in your direction, his eyes still glued to the generator. You continued, “We’re up against The Shape.”

That seemed to catch his attention as he looked at you. It wasn’t hard for him to discern the look on your face. You were scared. You knew who he wanted this round, and he knew as well. You hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk to Ash after the confrontation with Meg, and you couldn’t help but worry about how he would see you. He had come along back when you were imprisoned by the campsite, and he had treated you no different than the others back then. He seemed to think about what he was gonna say as Dwight sat down on your right. Not before long Ash turned back to you with a winning smile.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to be the saviour once more then. I’m always ready to help a beautiful lady from evil.” You stared at him for a moment, before a smile rose to your lips and you chuckled. It was a burst of weak laughter, but a laugh nonetheless. He sounded so cheesy, yet you couldn’t help but find his words comforting. Ash was a good guy at heart.

“Thank you, Ash,” your voice was quiet, but you knew he had heard you as he clicked his tongue before continuing to work.

“Then, it’s good that I brought this, then.” You turned to Dwight, who had spoken up. In his hand shined a metal key, a rare thing to acquire and there weren’t a lot of them. He smiled at you awkwardly and gave him one back. Perhaps not every friendship around the fire was lost.

With that, you worked on and finished the generator rather quickly. You had somehow managed to do it well without problems. Maybe it was the sense of camaraderie that fuelled your being? You couldn’t be sure but the moment you rose from the ground you all heard the sound of a man screaming in the distance. Someone had been hooked.

“Damn, that’s Ace,” Ash muttered to himself as he rolled his shoulder, “you two move over to the next gen and I’ll get him.” Dwight nodded and began to move. You knew it was the best course of action, but you couldn’t help but worry. You were startled the moment you felt Ashe’s robotic arm on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry; we’ll all get out of here together,” he said as he gave you a trustworthy smile. Yet, as he turned away to move in the direction where Ace had been hanged, you couldn’t help but feel that his words would not be as truthful as he had wanted them to be. You only lost sight of Ash the moment Dwight grabbed your upper arm, signalling you to move onwards. You followed after him, your hair and clothes getting wetter and more damp with every drop that landed. You put your hair behind your ears to get a better view of your surroundings. He was here. Somewhere in the forest, The Shape was stepping in puddles and on the grass, with an intent to hurt and to kill. It was almost as if you could feel him knowing exactly where you were. You couldn’t help but wonder how his skin could be so warm, whist his insides were so cold. So cold and ruthless. It was the moment that your thoughts went to his temperature that you shook your head to clear your thoughts. You had no wish to think of him. He was an inhuman monster.

As you and Dwight reached a small hill you took a few extra breaths to calm the slowly approaching anger and fear. You hated him. You really hated Michael. Dwight’s concerned look broke your train of thoughts as you sat down with him on the generator. You really wished you had found a different one, as you were rather exposed crouched on the small hill. Still, as much as your instincts told you to keep moving, you knew there was safety in numbers and so you stayed put, trying to get the small cogs to move together. It was a bit more difficult to work on generators when you were in The Red Forest, mainly because of all the rain, and so your hands were often more slippery. Though it was easier to see at least, than at places like MacMillan’s Estate where it was the middle of the night.

You worked in silence with Dwight, happy that he hadn’t tried to shake you off like many a survivor had done before him, whenever they had ‘the displeasure’ of beginning a trial with you. Maybe he would have, hadn’t it been for Ash. As much as the former “El Jefe” had been a source of entertainment in the past, Ash had truly proved himself to a true and valuable teammate. You almost wanted to laugh when you thought of a memory of him telling about a trial when he had tried to bargain with The Cannibal when he was on the hook. Apparently, The Killer hadn’t been too fond of the idea of swapping his chainsaw for a med-kit. Imagine that.

Suddenly, you felt a shiver down your spine. Something was wrong. It felt as if everything stopped around you at the dreadful realization that you weren’t alone anymore. You knew this feeling. As you felt a drop of water glide down your cheek, you slowly turned around. Even if you knew he was here, you couldn’t help your throat clenching at the sight of The Shape’s stature. You weren’t sure for how long he had been standing there, but you realized it didn’t matter. He found you once more. In a way, it all felt like a flashback to your last trial with him. Back in Haddonfield, you had been standing on the roof when he had spotted you. Yet somehow, it all felt even more ominous than last time. It felt even more like he was in control, and he knew. It didn’t take long before Dwight noticed that you had stopped working, and he turned to see The Killer as well. With a gasp, he grabbed a hold of your arm again and pulled you with him down the hill. Right before you lost track of The Shape, you could see him leap into action; following after you both.

Your heartbeat aggressively as your hurred footsteps splashed through puddles and muddy patches. It was difficult to properly stay on your feet, but at this moment there wasn’t all that much you could do but try and shake him off. It was only the moment you span around the corner of the big cabin that you suddenly saw that there were meaning behind Dwight’s route. You were startled the moment he suddenly grabbed your hips and lifted you up. It was a quick and messy movement, but before you could fathom what he was doing, you felt the wooden surface of the windowsill on the back of your thighs, and you suddenly fell straight through the opening. The moment your back connected with the ground, the air got knocked out of your lungs as well. Just as you started gasping for air, there was a shadow moving past the window you had just fallen through. You had barely enough time to see stark white latex before it hurried after your teammate.

As you struggled for air there was a faint remembrance to the feeling. A foggy memory of falling off the swing set as a child maybe. You couldn’t place it, nor remember it correctly, but there was something telling you that you had experienced it before. As you finally managed to gulp in the first breath of air, you came to the disturbing realization that it was a fading memory. With every death, The Entity would feel on your souls and past, until you were no more. It was a horrible feeling whenever you would realize some of your memories were turning foggy. It was always disheartening.

You lost your train of thoughts the moment you heard Dwight’s painful yell as he went on the hook. He had helped you by being a distraction so you could get away. It was both a warm and dreadful feeling that washed over you. It was a good feeling to know that some of your teammates were willing to protect you, yet you couldn’t help the guilty punch in your guts as well. As your breathing finally eased out you rose to your feet. The cabin could have been a nice place, had it not been for the dried splashes of blood on the wooden interior and the sense of death all through. Even the fireplace made you uncomfortable as it was more of a combination of candles and a human skull arranged in what looked like a ritualistic manner. You dared not think of who The Huntress was praying to. Still, there was something rather absurd about being in the cabin because everything was a little bit bigger. The hatchet-wielding killer was a tall woman, which was why it made sense that her furniture was bigger than normal.

Quietly you paced past the table stationed in the middle of the room. It always gave you bad vibes as it reminded you of when David told you about his first trial ever. He and The Huntress had both entered The Fog at the same time, and he had been so lucky that he had been her first murder, right up on the big altar-like table. You passed it with careful steps as you made your way up the stairs. Maybe if you could do just a little recognisance you would be able to find the perfect moment to save Dwight. You had to; he had taken a hit to save you. There was no way to avoid The Shape’s games, so even though you trembled with every step, you knew there was no time to sit and cry. You had done that plenty, and now it was the time to act.

Just as you reached the last step, you found your surprised gasp strangled as strong fingers grasped around your neck and pushed you forward, forcing you into the harsh wooden walls with a crack. Your forehead connected with the planks first, and the excruciating impact left you shaky. As you opened your eyes everything was a blurry mess. You groaned the moment you felt him behind you. He was warm and the feeling of him pressing up against you made you want to throw up. This was a lot closer to the feeling of a concussion. His breath was heavy on your neck and his hand far too hot against your neck. It was burning. Keeping you trapped against him his fingers travelled around to your jaw, harshly bending your head back. You were prepared to see his cold façade but was startled instead. You gave a sharp shriek the moment his knife was embedded into the wall directly above your head.

The hand that once had been holding his far too familiar weapon found its place on your hip, pushing your behind against him. You begged a choked ”Stop,” but there was no indication that he cared for your words as you felt him truly lean into you. This was your first trial together since the campsite, you realized as you tried to balance your hands. His grip was bruising, his other hand grabbing ahold of your hip and pulling you back into him.

“Michael, stop this,” you continued through clenched teeth, trying to shake him off of you. But The Shape was too big, too strong. The moment your boot connected with his shin, he gave an almost silent growl directly into your ear. It was more of an aggressive breath, but it was enough to give you a shiver down your spine. Still, you couldn’t help but cry out as his hand left your hip to push his fingers down past the band of your trousers and underwear. With strong fingers, he dragged them between your folds in a harsh and intense movement. The suddenness of his actions left you gasping as your hand went to his wrist, hoping to remove him. Your movement, however, did nothing but drag his palm against your pearl, giving you uncomfortable sensations. You whimpered out as you realized there was no point in trying to fight an obviously losing battle. Just as he ground against you harder than before, you felt the grip on your jaw loosen slightly, only for him to push his index and middle finger past your lips. Michael had never really attacked you so hurriedly before and so your surprised gasp gave him the opportunity to shove them further in. Your cry was choked as you felt him push down on your tongue as well as your flower.

With your eyes wide open it was no escape from the cold stare of The Shape as he observed your expressions. His fingers were strong and long, forcing you to gag whenever he went too close to the back of your throat. Your whimpers were slightly muffled, but since you couldn’t close your mouth properly there were a lot more noises for Michael to hear. His breathing was heavier and the insistence of his pelvis was too prominent against your backside. The moment one of his fingers found the deepest of your insides you choked out, forcing saliva to drip past your lips and run down your chin. The feeling if his digits moving inside your depths as well was too intense as he scraped his fingertips against your walls. You hated that Michael somehow knew where to touch to get the reactions he wanted.

The sudden bell chiming from a finished generator forced him to freeze his actions. For a few seconds, he was completely unmoving, your fidgeting and shivers being the only movements inside the cabin. In a way it was almost amusing, seeing that The Shape of Haddonfield had seemingly forgotten what he was supposed to do in a trial. He didn’t seem to forget for too long as before you knew I,t his right hand retracted from underneath your waistband to reach out and rip his knife out from the wall. His other hand left the cavern of your mouth and instead grabbed ahold of the back of your neck. You yelped the moment he pulled you back and around him, with you now facing the stairs. 

“Michael, don’t-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence before you felt his grip tighten before pushing you forward. It was almost as if time stood still for a moment, just until you hit the end of the staircase. You hadn’t grasped you had landed until Michael’s bloodied boots were in front of your face. You couldn’t breathe. As the realization of what had happened hit you, all the pain flourished around your body, as if someone had turned on a switch. As you heaved for breath you felt every bruise forming on your skin. Your left knee was feeling somewhat wet, same with your elbow, signalizing that the skin had broke. Your head didn’t feel too much worse than when he shoved you into the wall, but as a compromise, your arms were burning in pain as your instinct had been to cover your head. You knew your hips were forming colours of blue and yellow as The Shape reached for your form, lifting you up and throwing you harshly on his shoulder. It felt wrong.

As you swayed with his movements you felt bile trying to force it’s way up. In a way, you hoped you would puke – see if Michael would like his coveralls soaked in vomit. Still, as much as you felt some immature joy in the thought, there was nothing coming up. Probably because you hadn’t eaten since you got here. And that was a long time ago. With a precise tug, your body was flipped off of The Shape’s shoulder and moved onto a meat hook. You would never get used to the feeling of your skin splitting, and your muscles being ripped apart to make way for the old metal. It happened often but it still was excruciating. But in your dizzy stupor, you could only whine at the impact and your own weight pulling on the wound. You lifted your head slightly to look at the monster, but The Shape had vanished between the trees, away from sight.

You weren’t sure for how long you were hanging, but it was long enough for your hair to get wet enough for droplets of rain to run down your face. Or maybe they were tears. Maybe both. It didn’t matter. There was a slight chill running through your body, contrasting the warm ache in your shoulder. You would have tried to get off the hook on your own had it not been for your lack of strength and your dizzy mind. If you were lucky, The Entity would come to stop your struggling by taking you away. Instead, a set of hands, one cold and one warm grabbed a hold of you and lifted you off the meat hook. The sound of the metal sliding through you were nothing compared to the burning in your flesh at the movement. Still, you could only whine as the man carried you away, one arm behind your back and the other underneath your knees. As he carried you off you could hear him muttering something about his age and carrying you.

“Hey, Kiddo. You alright?” you stared up at the voice. It was Ash. The Hero Himself. You giggled slightly, but it was clear you almost doubled over, as he pulled your shoulders upright and laid you against a rock.

“What’s the matter? You look real’ out of it,” Ash continued as he addressed your wound. As the pain dabbed down and the world began to slow its spinning, you told him how The Shape had thrown you down the stairs. He said something you didn’t get, but you shook to life the moment you felt a sharp pain in your thigh. You gasped as everything around you came into focus. In front of you were Ash, with a needle in his hand, now its contents empty.

“Thought you needed a wake-up call with how you were mumbling.” You could only stare at him as your brain reworked itself. 

“What happened?” you asked. Ash looked around himself before replying.

“Well, after you went on the hook, Ace tried to save Dwight but was caught red-handed. He didn’t get far before he was taken down with a knife in the back. Whilst he was running off I fetched Dwight who’s probably working on a generator right about now, and I came for you. Gotta say I haven’t seen none of The Killers use a staircase as a weapon before though.”

“How many gens are done?” you asked dizzily as you tried to rise. With all the sudden adrenaline running through your veins combined with your previous beating, you were rather unsteady. Ash grabbed ahold of your elbow, helping you up.

“Two: the one we did, and one I did with Ace,” just as he finished his sentence a loud bell rang through the terrain. “Make that three,” he chuckled. You really had been out of it when you had hung. Seeing you finally stabilized, he let go of you. Ash had really been helpful this time. It was good to know you had someone that wasn’t judging you because of things you couldn’t control.

“Thank you, Ash.” Your expression of gratitude made him smile a bit, almost as if he was thinking of something else. As quickly as the genuine smile came, it was quickly switched out with a more confident, and more classic Ash-like smile.

“Well, I guess we gotta get moving, huh? Wouldn’t want to meet that knife more than we have to,” As he turned around you both froze at the man staring at you both. A silent “Speak of The Devil, and he shall appear” rang in the back of your head. How long had Michael been there? A chill went down your spine as your eyes met his mask. Even if the expression was the same as always, you could tell that he had the mindset of a predator waiting for its moment to pounce. Ash went directly into a protective stance one arm pushing you slightly behind him, forcing you to follow his slow steps backwards.

“I think this is your cue to leave, kiddo.” For a moment you were still frozen as you knew Michael was staring through Ash, directly at you. It was only when Michael took a threatening step forward that you turned running.

Between the trees and puddles, you ran far away from the scene. You almost stopped the moment you heard Ash shout in pain, but instead, you forced yourself forward. The anti-haemorrhagic syringe had done wonders to your body and now you were alert to your surroundings. Your body was still battered and bruised, but you weren’t bleeding any more. You knew you needed to find Dwight. If you could finish one more generator, then the hatch could be found, and you could escape. You could escape Michael and win against him. The image of you managing to jump through the hatch’s opening, with Michael watching, yet unable to take you, lit a fire inside you as you found yourself by the taller, yet thinner hut. You hadn’t realized how far you had actually run until you saw the “landmark”. When it came to The Entity’s trials, it was always important to track those instances where you could find something to help you figure out where you were. You stopped to breathe as you felt extra large droplets hit your shoulders and head, as the raindrops fell from the leaves above you. Against the heat of your skin, it was welcoming. A comforting chill as your lungs burned. 

The quiet moment was cut short with the sound of hurried footsteps coming towards you. Dwight looked paler than normal as he slowed down towards you. He quietly signalled you to follow, and you went behind a pile of logs. As he kneeled behind it you asked him what had happened.

“I was on my way over to save Ash, but he was still there,” Dwight’s eyes darted between the trees before he turned back to you, “Just right in front of him, staring.” It wasn’t unnatural for some of The Killers to watch The Entity pick up its prey, or watch them struggle. Some Killers like The Cannibal seemed to enjoy watching the different survivor hang on for their life.

“I managed to link eyes with Ash and I think he wanted us to just continue,” he continued. There was something about his voice that seemed shaky, but you shook the thought away. Even though the thought of leaving a teammate never sat right with you, you knew this game of cat and mouse for The Entity’s pleasure forced sacrifices to be made. It didn’t seem too far fetched that Ash would pull The Hero Card and die for the rest of you.

“So what do we do now?” you asked as you leaned over on one foot. The other one was really painful, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was sprained. It was only when the syringe’s effect dabbed down that you paid attention to the ache. 

“If he dies we should be able to find the hatch and open it with this,” Dwight answered as he held up the key fro earlier, “Now we just have to wait and keep our eyes open.” You nodded slightly as you sat down to nurture your foot. At a closer inspection, it was fairly easy to see that the blue hue around your ankle and the swelling proved your sprain true. You knew you just had to bite through it and keep going. After all, even though your foot was in pain, you knew there was a worse fate waiting for you if you didn’t.

It didn’t take more than under half a minute before you hear the sound of Ash’s sacrifice being completed. It always forced a shiver down your spine, but now was not the time to mourn him. Especially since you would see him in a short while. All you had to do, was find the hatch. Dwight rose to his feet again, warily watching his surroundings. Close behind him, you followed as he ventured forward. You were both as quiet as you could, avoiding larger puddles and breakable sticks. The stress of the situation, how close you were to actually win, speed up your heart. You started walking parallel with one of the stone walls, both checking around the protruding trees and behind every bush. It had to be here somewhere. Just as you were to check the shack, as the hatch sometimes would spawn there, The Shape was before you, having stepped forward from one of the walls obscuring and hiding him. Dwight, who had been in front of you, wasn’t quick enough to react as the knife cut across his arm and chest. He cried out and hastily turned around to run the other way, almost knocking you to the ground. The Shape studied his knife for a quick second before he stepped forward towards you. Your eyes, now as wide as dinner plates, gave him no more time as you sprinted after your companion.

The throbbing pain from your ankle burned with every step, yet you continued on. Tears threatened to spill across your cheeks as you tried to follow Dwight. You could easily hear The Shape follow behind you, and you knew as well as anyone that with his build and long legs, he would catch you if you didn’t find the hatch soon. Your lungs burned as you caught up right behind your teammate, his blood clearly dripping down his white shirt.

“Over there!” Dwight yelled out as he spotted the way to safety. Yet, you didn’t register his words, as everything went white and a sharp and wretched pain connected with the back of your shoulder. All you heard was a voice inside gasping out a “No,” before your front collided with the harsh forest floor beneath you. Gravel bit into your front and some of your cheek like small blades. As your head rose to your now lost sanctuary, you only hear a short apology before Dwight opened the hatch and jumped into its void.

Time was frozen whilst you looked over at the tempting opening as its dark smoke released into the air. He had left. He had left you behind. Your eyes were as big as dinner plates as tears of fury started pouring down your cheeks. Dwight had left you behind, like everyone else. He was no better. All sound around you was faded and missing until you screamed out.

“You fucking asshole!” your voice was perhaps the most incensed you’ve ever heard, and as heavy footsteps moved past you, you found yourself certain that if you had been the one wielding the knife, Dwight would not be standing. He had talked so nicely about teamwork and then he sacrificed you at the first sight of danger. Sharp stones and gravel dug harshly into your face and you just laid head down. You couldn’t stop your heaves for breath; your lungs crying out for air. You could feel your blood course through you and it was boiling. You didn’t need to look up to hear the hatch being closed with a heavy ‘thud’, the sweet singing voice of escaping dissipating into the crisp air. You heard him turn. The Shape was returning. It was happening again.

The crushing of leaves and twigs underneath his sole was mocking you, you knew it. It was signalling his arrival to break you apart, just because he could. It was almost funny. No, in fact, it was fucking hilarious. This game of cat and mouse between you two were a fucking comedy, and there was no away around it. As if on cue you could hear the laughter of the audience. The wind blowing past snickered at your position. The raindrops falling from the thinnest branches were giggling at the closing distance between the prey and the predator. The freezing and soaked dirt were cackling at how exhausted your body was. All around you, there was a cachinnation of voices laughing at you. And it was funny. With every voice joining in, and with each of his steps, you found your gritted teeth of anger being transformed by corners of your mouth rising slowly, yet determined. 

The pebbles digging into your forehead felt sharper as your slowly rising giggles shook your body back and forth. It was too funny. The moment his boot had connected with the forest floor and had shut the hatch, it had felt as if the world around you actually kicked into action and woke up around you. Beneath your hand, the ground began to crack, as much as you were. The glow that emitted between your bloodied fingertips was warm and tickling, and it furthered your wish to break apart. You wished you were gone, that your mind was disintegrating as much as you felt everything around you did. This was the grand coda and you were singing your solo. At some point, he had reached you, and you suddenly spotted his boots a mere inch away from your head. You wondered if he was hearing the orchestra of laughter around you both.

A sharp tug on your upper arm brought you up to your knees. You wanted to cry out in pain, but instead, it was mixed with your exhausted laughter, so it sounded more choked than anything. Your head hung down in defeat before his grip left your arm and ripped into your locks instead. A sharp tug was all you needed as he strained your neck and forced your head up to him. There he was. The man himself. The Shape. The source of your suffering.

For a moment you both just stared at each other, as you have before, and as you would at another time. His grip was strong, leaving no room to move. A large church bell rang in the background, forcing everything around you to glow brighter for a short moment. In the split of a second, your eyes found his hidden ones. Focused. Cold. Feral. Still, there was something to laugh at in this situation. The fact that everything around you was collapsing meant only one thing. Michael had just started the clock. With every beat of your heart and with every breath he released, you were one step closer to your incoming doom by the hands of The Entity. You were uncertain if he knew that when he closed the hatch, or if he was simply acting on instinct. Something told you he wouldn’t have answered if you had asked.

“Looks like you’re out of time, Mikey.” Your voice was strained and shaky. The bloodloss was making things more and more blurry by the second. “Guess you shouldn’t have done that.” You knew to mock him never led you down a safe path, but this time he wouldn’t have time to have his way with you. He had ensured that himself. The rise of his chest was prominent, yet the rest of his body was still. That was until he tilted his head slightly. That was never a good sign. Your eyes widened, yet you were unable to do anything else as his grip tightened around your scalp, and you were forcibly pushed forward. Your face met with his crotch before you realized what he was doing. The fabric of his coveralls was harsh against your face and its wounds, yet none of it mattered as you felt something far more prominent and hard pushed against your face.

Your hands shot up to his thighs as you cried out. Your hands began hammering as your face was crushed against him. Michael forced your head still and tilted you upwards. From the angle of sitting below him on your knees, he was a behemoth of a man. A silent tower watching all. A sadistic man whos hand brandishing his longer-than-average knife was slowly pulling down his zipper. You wanted to cry as it hit you what he intended to do. Somehow, it felt worse. The painful pressure on your nose was only released for a moment as he pulled you slightly off of him. Not far, of course, you were still directly in front of his pelvis, with a front-row seat to Michael undressing. Down the length of the zipper, you could see his dark T-shirt, which was a bit too tight around his midsection. It rose a mere centimetre or two, showing off his skin and a dark trail that connected from underneath the T-shirt, to underneath the white boxers. His pants themselves were rather plain, but then you never thought him the fashion shopping kind. From the close proximity, it was easy to see that he was aroused and ready. You also felt a quick hint of a masculine scent when you breathed. Your body was riddled in goosebumps, and you were shivering quite clearly. This was so fucked up.

Even though you knew this part of Michael had been inside you several times, you still felt that this was absurd and new. You didn’t know this part of him, and you didn’t want to. He switched his knife into his other hand, the handle now brushing against your scalp. You barely managed to cry a “Please,”, yet it did nothing to deter the now free hand grabbing a hold of the edge of his briefs, pulling the material down. You had shut your eyes as a reflex, but the sudden yank forced you to reopen them as you whimpered out in pain. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought your hair had been ripped from your skull. There he was. No more than a few inches away was Michael’s hand wrapped tightly around his member. He was rather large, yet it wasn’t surprising because of your previous encounters, and because of Michael’s large stature. There was something so intimidating and horrifying about how easily he was able to touch himself in front of you, forcing you to watch. He was half-hard, yet you could see that each stroke brought him one step closer. The moment his hand gripped at his base, you found yourself focusing on a vein on the underside of his shaft. You had been right about his treasure trail, and it led down exactly where you had imagined. Dark hair, not a lot nor nothing. It seemed that whilst you could never imagine Michael shaving or trimming, you could only guess he simply didn’t grow an inordinate amount in the first place.

Seemingly tired of doing the job himself, you felt him tug you forward. You hands that had so far been frozen, were kicked into overdrive and were hopelessly trying to push yourself away from him. The moment your face met with his pelvis you clenched your teeth and froze up. His hand had left himself, to instead grab a hold of the side of your head, fingers gracing behind your hair. Yet none of it mattered as you felt the heat of Him meet your face. He was uncomfortably warm, yet it was the scent that you inhaled that made you clench up. You couldn’t believe he was rubbing up against you. Before you knew it your hand had instinctively grabbed around his member to try and hold it away. It was an even weirder feeling to hold him; it both being hard and soft at the same time. You could hear a slight growl from above you as his harsh hand clenched around your wrist. With him commanding your hand’s movement, you felt him push the head against your lips expectantly. It was soft and sponge-like in texture and the whole ordeal made you fluster and heat up. You manage to spit a sharp word between clenched teeth. Your hand let go of him as well.

“No.”

For a moment he just watched you, his manhood standing up for you. As quick as a viper, his hand left your wrist and instead grabbed a hold of your index finger. You barely had time to register what he was doing before you heard a sharp crack and extreme pain washed over you. Your eyes flew open, yet your teeth were shut close as you cried out. Your finger was throbbing and tears were beginning to form. With every quick heartbeat, you felt it throb against your broken finger. You dared not look at it. More insistently he pushed himself against your lips, but you were firm. You would not let him have this. Just wait it out. He would lose eventually.

“Fuck you,” you muttered against him. Seemingly tired of your resistance, his grip shifted slightly down to your wrist. This time you knew what he was about to do, and so you tried to escape his grasp. Michael was stronger, however, and the moment his fingers enveloped your wrist, you knew nothing better to do but shut your eyes. With his sharp grip and aggressive movement, you screamed as you heard the louder crack of your bones, as he forcibly broke your wrist. This time he allowed your movement forward and your forehead met his abdomen. His member slid against your jaw and you cried out, tears now flowing. Your eyes found your hand still in Michael’s grasp. It looked so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to look like that, it wasn’t supposed to bend like that. As your hand was bent in one wrong direction, your index finger was broken in another. The pain was excruciating. With a disinterested movement, he let go of your wrist, making the pain spike.

The hand still winded into your hair pulled you back as you choked back your sobs. The other was back at his member, now giving it a few hard strokes before he pushed you toward it. This time you just stared at his pelvis when you felt the tip probing your lips. Whatever. This time your mouth was already slightly opened, and so without any struggles, he pushed your head forward. The head was warm as you felt it slide against your tongue and further into your mouth. You knew exactly why he didn’t just force your mouth open with his bare hands and force himself down your throat. He wanted you subjugated. He wanted you to know that you would open your mouth for him, whether or not you wanted to. You would still open your mouth and let him in. You felt numb, even though your hand was throbbing in agony and your jaw was getting more and more strained with each inch that entered.

Michael’s scent was more prominent now, and his natural musk was heavy as he stopped pushing forward. He wasn’t fully down your throat, yet he began to pull you off, until only his head was inside, before he pushed back in. His movements were calculated and breathing was getting heavier. The hand that had broken your wrist slid down your jaw, fingers enveloping around your throat. Forcing your head to stand still, he pushed his pelvis forward. His thrusts were harsh and you couldn’t help but close your eyes as you let him do as he wanted. A growl from above you and a clench around you told you he demanded your cooperation. He wanted you to suck. And you did. The fight inside you was dying out as you just waited for everything to be over. So to hurry the process you hollowed your cheeks and began to add pressure to his member. Seemingly satisfied you felt his hips quicken in speed. The feeling of his manhood dragging against your tongue. 

A bell tolled in the distance, and around you, you knew the world was collapsing, yet you knew that with every movement of your tongue against him, your own self worth were falling to pieces as well. Suddenly Michael forced you harsher forward and you choked when he hit your throat. Saliva was starting to run down your chin. You gagged and your still healthy hand grabbed his thigh, trying to push him off of you. Your pleads for him to stop was ignored as he forced you even further onto his member. Your eyes were wide as you tried your hardest not to puke. With a brutal speed, he forced your head up and down against him, clearly now chasing his high. Your jaw was in pain and your head was a dizzy mess, yet nothing would relent Michael’s pistoning against your face. His pants were getting heavier and before you knew it he forced himself further down your throat than ever before. A muffled groan left his lips, as he came. Your face was pushed all the way down, and his treasure trail was tickling your nose and cheeks. The feeling of his essence being spurted down your throat was uncomfortable and strange, and the feeling of it gliding down made you gag. He kept you still against him, making sure nothing went to waste. You were his to fill. As his breaths began to even out, he finally left the back of your throat. As his head glided against your tongue your tastebuds caught on to what you just had been forced to swallow. It was salty and had a weird texture to it.

With a pop, Michael left your swollen lips and he hung limp in front of you. Your face was a mess; your skin was red, tears had dried down and your jaw was covered in your own spit. The hand that had held onto your throat had probably left a red mark in its wake, and you could guess your saliva had run down his fingers as well. You were so exhausted. You were in so much pain. Around you, everything was glowing and falling apart and you felt empty. The only thing keeping you upright was his grip on you. Slowly your eyes met with his mask that almost looked like it was glowing. For a second you just looked at each other before his hands forced you up. Your legs were in no condition to stand on and so you simply hung limp in his hands. Soon it would all be over. 

After lifting you up, he closed the distance between you until his face was close to yours. You stared at him and into his eyes, the moments they could be seen in the glow of The Endgame. How could someone be so empty, you couldn’t help but wonder as you stared at each other. You wanted to say something. You wanted to say how much you hated him, but you didn’t have the strength. And so, without either of you saying another word, his grip changed before easily breaking your neck.


	4. Craving Exhiliration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I wanna give my utmost thank you's and gratitude to everyone's wishes and condolences. Seeing everyone so understanding and loving has truly made the pain easier to bear and I cannot express how grateful I am to each and every one of you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
> 
> I promised I wasn't going to disappear and then shit hit the fan. As we all probably know, this is a trying time for a lot of people; and whilst I can't say I have been affected as hard as many others, I suppose I felt the mental strain a lot more than I had anticipated. I've felt myself losing control, which is something I have strongly rooted issues with, and I've felt myself spiral down faster than I've managed to climb back up. I'm sure a lot of people can recognize the feelings I've had during this time. I live in Norway and whilst we have been able to get the virus somewhat under control here, and I've tried to help those in quarantine with outside tasks they are unable to do themselves, I've come to realize far too late that I forgot to take care of myself and I've had to deal with that. And in some ways, I haven't dealt with it. I am still trying to get back into the usually happy person that I am, and getting my job back, trying to study for my exams has helped somewhat, so I hope me getting back into a routine will be the catalyst that brings me back into the person I see myself as.
> 
> This was a lot of stuff that I've been dealing with for a good while now, but I want to be transparent with why I've been idle, as sometimes writers disappear without a trace, and I promise I am not ever going to do that. I am still very much into Dead by Daylight and this fandom, I've gotten so many friends and happy memories so I want to give back to the people that have given me more than I could have ever imagined.
> 
> Still, here is the last chapter before the finale to this little adventure of ours. 4/5 chapters are now done, and I want you all to know how pumped I am to begin writing the ending. Finishing this has reenergized me and I am ready to continue this!
> 
> So without further ado, I hope you enjoy my newest chapter and I am pumped for what's to come.
> 
> PS. apparently, my email has not shown me when I've gotten any comments so I promise I'll reply to them all after I'm off my shift. (currently writing this on the train lmao cx ) Also, this chapter was supposed to come out three days ago, but my charger died and I had to get a new one rip...

The moment the dark mist evaporated from around you and your eyes met his glasses, you flew at Dwight. You had returned to the camp standing basically right by the log he had been sitting at, so it was a short distance to tackle him. He gasped, but your aggressive push knocked the air out of him as you screamed.

“How could you? You fucking coward! You left me!” with every scream at him you punched as well. Dwight managed to grab ahold of one of your wrists, but your right hook connected directly with his cheek. Before you could do anything further you were harshly ripped off of him and were put in a headlock. From the smell of cigarettes, there was no denying that it was Bill that had been the quickest one to pull you off your teammate.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled as he tightened his grip. Your arms went straight for his to try and get him off. He was strong for his age.

“He left me! He just opened the hatch and ran off!” you retorted as your throat choked up. As you struggled against his hold, you spotted Kate helping Dwight back onto the log, assessing the damage you had dealt.

“Come on, you know the rules as good as any of us! We don’t let previous trials compromise the camp!” he exasperated as he loosened his grip to grab ahold of your shoulders instead and turn you towards him. Bill’s brows were furrowed, yet he didn’t seem too angry yet; more like an annoyed old man whos precious silence was disturbed. Somehow, that infuriated you even more than if he had been mad. 

“Well, that’s funny considering none of you said that when Meg came for me!” you spat at him as you shook him off, “We were in a trial with Him and Dwight knows! Dwight knows just as well as any of you what happens when we’re against Him, yet he still left me behind!” tears were running down your cheeks as you screamed at them. They didn’t need to hear Michael’s title to know who you were talking about. When your eyes went to Dwight you could see that one of the glasses was broken and he was wearing a blue hue to his cheek. He didn’t dare look at you. You pushed down the regret and sympathy you felt. Why should you when none of the others did for you? Kate looked apologetic as your eyes met hers, yet she said nothing – as if that was any better. Bill was now silent as he stared at you. Somehow you had hoped that Bill would stay neutral or an ally since he too had experienced great hardships in his life, but it seemed that he would always think of the common good, not realizing you had been a part of it. Had. There was a pregnant pause before you heard Dwight’s voice.

“I’m sorry.”

More than hearing him open the hatch and run off, those two words hurt you even more.

“You’re sorry?” you turned towards him coldly, “You think an apology is gonna cut it? Because of you, I can still feel his taste on my tongue.” You spat on the ground before turning around and stalking off. You knew it was only a half-truth, yet you didn’t care. You wanted him to know the extent of his actions. What his cowardice had cost you. Even though you had been frightened beyond words, you still had a wish to help the others, but it seemed that Dwight did not share your moral compass. This was a lesson. You couldn’t trust them; the fire wasn’t a safe place anymore. After releasing a shaky breath, you straightened your spine and turned away from the fire. Before you could reconsider, you stomped away from them all. You could hear Kate call your name, yet you ignored her voice. 

Quicker than you realized you found yourself engulfed by the darkness of the forest. It was almost eery how quickly the glow from the fire had disappeared into the distance and you were having difficulty looking around you. There were no stars twinkling on the night sky and the moon was hiding behind a dark veil of clouds. The forest floor was cold underneath your soles, and a sharp shiver went down your spine with each step. Still, your eyes managed to make out a path between the overshadowing tree trunks and the grasping branches. You were beginning to regret your exit, yet you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to return with your tail between your legs. You couldn’t show them that there still was a large part of you that wanted their company and friendships because the other part of you told you sternly that they weren’t worth it. And with said mindset, you stomped on into the unknown.

Since time was irrelevant, you weren’t sure how far you went until your anger slowed and subsided into an aching stab in your chest. Your feet, that had been digging into the dirt with every step, were now slowing into a shaking pace. You were alone. Alone with your thoughts. You thought of how not too long ago your wrist was broken, of how whilst you knew his seed was no longer inside you, you could still feel him on your tongue and the stretch your throat had done to accommodate him. You could still feel his hands cradle your neck like a child inspecting their broken plaything before he had ended your suffering. No, not ended it. There was no ending it, was there? Before you could stop your tears they fell. Your nose was runny and whilst it wasn’t his brutal grip around your neck that caused it, your throat burned. You weren’t commanding your legs, but they stopped their movements and you dropped down beside a tree. Leaning against the harsh wood you allowed yourself the moment to cry. You could allow yourself to feel – you were alone after all. No survivors to make uncomfortable by whimpering in pain; no uncomfortable looks. No false sense of pity. With your head hidden in your arms on top of your knees, your sobs were muffled. Your tears silenced with every shudder. It was just too painful.

You didn’t know how long you had sat in your own misery, but the sharp “click”-sound, rewired your instincts and you froze. In your despair, you had run off, but had it really been the best course of action? Slowly you looked up from your arms and out into the darkness. Because of the moon-less atmosphere, you were unable to see much further in front of you than a couple of meters. All you could see was trees, bushes, and darkness – darkness that seemed to not have a correlation with loneliness. Another click to your left made you turn towards the sound hurriedly. You definitively weren’t alone anymore; if you ever were. The rustling of bushes around you made the hairs on your arms rise, and you shakily rose to your feet.

“Who’s there?” you asked, immediately regretting your words. You just had to give away your position to whatever and whoever was surrounding you. Still, there was a nagging voice telling you that if there was something out there, then it already knew. The thought that truly gave you a chill down your spine was whether or not it was Michael. You had mocked him for not having enough time, but now, here – he would have all the time in the world.

The third click came from your right and you couldn’t help your pulse rising. Screw this, you weren’t going to stay still until something happened. Following the area where the sound had emitted from, you stepped backward, before turning hurriedly. With another click, everything turned white for a sharp moment. Before you could realize you had been blinded by a sharp light, a strong palm connected with your chest and harshly pushed you to the ground. The push had been strong, yet you had managed to land on your behind, instead of your back. The moment the darkness returned another flash came before your eyes. A burst of dark and playful laughter followed, scaring you further. This was someone other than Michael. Crying out at your lack of sight you quickly held your arm in front of your eyes.

“Stop!” you cried out as you backed away before your hand slipped on mud and you tumbled over. The moment seemed to last an eternity before your eyesight returned to figuring out the darkness around you. You sat up and looked back in the direction where the light had blinded you, but there was nothing but bushes. Nothing in front of you. 

“Boo.” With a startled movement, you turned to your left, only to stand face-to-face with a white mask. Startled you screamed and pushed yourself back. His plans were different however, as he quickly brandished a knife, grabbed a hold of your calf, and shoved it into your leg. The sudden stab forced a scream from you before you could stop it.

“Now, now, stop fussing so badly, will you? I’m sure you experienced worse, so stop your crying,” continued the man, his voice distorted and feigning exhaustion as if disciplining a child. As he spoke he had ripped his knife out of your wound before jumping you. His thighs pinning your pelvis down into the dirt and he quickly grabbed your left wrist and shoved it down as well.

“Tell me; how often has he put you in this position, huh?” the man laughed, “How many times has he pushed you down and taken you apart? How did he do it huh? With his knife, his hands?” His ramblings continued as he shuffled your right hand into the same grip as your other. Tears ran down your face and you tried with all your might to push him off of you. You didn’t realize that at some point he had stopped his movements, simply staring at your face.

“What’s so special about you, I wonder,” he whispered. Calculated he forced his knife up against your pulse, too close. “Honestly I don’t see it,” he continued,” I honestly thought you were more interesting after what I heard about you, but you’re nothing like my little stories. You’re just pathetic, simply a crying mess- look you’re not even struggling anymore! Are you even alive?” with the flat side of the knife, he recklessly slapped it against your cheek. The way he spoke it was as if your being was an inconvenience to him. When you thought about it, you couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was the Grim Reaper that had come to take you away. Staring up at him through your tears, you finally realized where you had seen him before. Or rather, something similar. Even in your distress, you couldn’t help but think of an old painting of a man on a bridge. He was screaming in anguish. It seemed fitting, as you could relate to the horrified man made of paint.

“Maybe I am,” you mumbled, more to yourself than anything. If your death would let you escape this hell, then you would choose death in an instant. You knew it in the pit of your stomach. In silence, he stared at you whilst looked past him; past The Appararition and the trees, into the void.

“Well, that’s just sad, now isn’t it? You’re really a weak little thing, huh…” the ghost-like man continued leaning back into your view, “But we can change that now can’t we?” The sound of pure malicious intent forced your breathing to seize, as you slowly began to focus on the man above you. Noticing he had your attention, he laughed gruffly, sitting back up again.

“Let’s see if we can’t spark something inside you again.” The hand holding your wrists left them, to instead squeeze around your throat. The other one, brandishing his hunting knife left your neck to instead cut down the front of your top. Your hands went for his, but with how his gloved hand brutalized your neck, you began coughing as you choked. The Scream-like Killer was brutal and hurried in his actions and laughed when his knife split your bra and your chest. The cut trickled your blood down towards your midsection, as he shoved your top out of the way. He seemed to find great enjoyment in your futile struggles.

“I have to say that you’re prettier in red at least,” he chuckled, “Now what do you think he’ll do when he sees you like this, huh?” That’s when you froze your movements. The hand that was trying to shove his wrist away stopped as well.

“What?” your voice was even shakier than you first believed, and there was an underlying uncertainty to it.

“You have no idea how boring this endless cycle of murdering is when you have to wait around most of the time. That’s why so many of us try to please our little master, just so that we’ll be able to feel your lives in our grasps as we snuff out your candles. We have to work for the pleasure of killing you ourselves. The power is euphoric and yet, there’s so much waiting,” his voice was whiny as if he was a child that had been told no by its parent. Like a child being forbidden from ripping the wings of a butterfly.

“So much time doing nothing, and so I thought I’d come out here and see if I could find someone to play with and to believe that you walked right into my arms. This place’s own little superstar decided to leave their little safe haven and came out to the playground! Honestly, for a while you were the talk of the town, so you can’t expect me not to be curious!” The man didn’t seem to be paying attention to you, even as he spoke, so the moment your outreached hand gripped ahold of a rock by your side, you harshly hit it against his head. With a pained yell, he let go of you and you shoved him off you. You didn’t get far, however, as the sharp bite of his knife bit into your leg, forcing you back down. Tears spilled over and you cried the moment he used the knife to pull you slightly back before straddling your backside.

“You little minx! Were you just playing around waiting for the perfect moment?” he sounded almost impressed as he ripped the knife from your leg whilst pushing you further into the ground by your neck, ”I was worried you were boring and broken, yet here you are fighting back! I can see why he chose you, little thing! You’re like a cornered animal, even if you don’t want to admit it – wild and feral, ready to bite back. That is way more fun!”

“Fuck you!” you grit through your teeth. He was simply playing with you and it infuriated you that whilst he wasn’t as big as The Shape, he seemed to have no problems with keeping you still with one hand as he smeared your blood on your skin with the other.

He laughed, “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t usually enjoy someone else’s sloppy seconds… even as enticing you are in this position.” You tried once more to shuffle him off of you, yet it only led to his thighs crushing harder against your hips.

“Shhh, don’t worry. We’ll still have our fun, you’ll see.” The last he said was muttered so quiet you almost missed it, but before you could ask, you felt the sharp edge of his knife beginning to cut into your flesh. You thrashed and struggled, but it did nothing but force him to grab ahold of your arms and force them beneath his legs as well, leaving you fully open for his attack.

“Hmm, now that my canvas is behaving, tell me how do you write…” you could hear him tap the blade against his mask as he contemplated before his knife returned to your skin. You could do nothing as you cried out in pain with every slice and cut he marred your back with. This was so different from The Shape, this wasn’t revenge or even some kind of sick power play as he did. This was a challenge, this was the man above you challenging an adversary because he was bored. Because he was fucking bored. With every burning bite from the blade, you couldn’t help but find some solace in the cold and wet dirt your face had been shoved into. Somehow it cooled some of your pain. If you could choose you would have dug yourself down into a dark pit and closed the hole – anything to escape the pain you were currently experiencing, but much more because of the possible repercussions this could have. What would you do if the guy was telling the truth? What would happen if he showed Michael the photos? Or rather, what would he do to you the next time you met? Somehow, that scared you much more than the fact that a murderer was currently carving your back like a pumpkin.

“There! Now you look absolutely ravishing. Honestly, I can’t say I don’t prefer you like this; beneath me and bloody. What a capturing sight!” his laughter was nothing more than aggressively sadistic, a dark and thick laughter with a voice that sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to say something. Something that would hurt him, yet you knew nothing probably would. Monsters like him have probably been called all types of horrible but befitting things – nothing would face him. You winced when he traced his leather gloves around your back, clearly following lines.

“Perfect. Now you just stay still, alright, Sweetheart?” After some shuffling, you heard the first click of his camera. That forced a sob from your throat. Another followed and your bloody body was covered in a flash of white for under a second.

“Hm, I can’t wait to see his reaction to this. I hope he’ll be furious,” he somewhat whispered to himself after the third photo and between the fourth.

“He won’t.”

“What?” he asked after a couple of seconds.

This time it was your turn to chuckle. It was hollow, yet there was amusement in your voice, “Do you honestly think he cares enough to give you a reaction?” The Man said nothing, waiting for you to elaborate.

“There is no way this will give you anything other than his disinterest,” you continued, “He doesn’t care about me. What he’s done to me is nothing more than some kind of sick power play, simply because he can. I can’t stop him, and that’s why he does it. But he doesn’t care about me,” you rambled as you looked over into the night. You knew there was some time until you would pass out and bleed to death – unless you could hurry the process.

“Well, he obviously cares enough to pick you out from the masses. I was told by the big guy with the bone mask that The Shape started something. He chose you.” You could hear his amusement slow down to more of a confrontational stance.

“He chose me cause I fucked up. He’s taken me apart because he enjoys tormenting people, but don’t think it is because I’m any kind of special to him,” you explained. If you could just anger him a bit more, “You can take as many pictures as you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you show them to him, he’ll give you nothing.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You-“

“Don’t I? Let me remind you that I’ve had him inside me. Unwillingly sure, but I’m probably the person he’s gotten the closest to in this shit-place.” Somehow, by explicitly telling the man what had happened, you felt a weight on your shoulders disappear. Maybe it was accepting what had happened, or maybe it was the acceptance of what he had done to you actually gave you some power in this situation.

“Everybody has a weakness. Who’s to say that you’re not his? He hasn’t shown any interest in anything else here other than murder and that warm place between your thighs.” He countered.

“Oh sure, he probably has a weakness… but it ain’t me,” your thoughts were getting cloudier by the minute, your body barely moving.

“Well, I guess I just have to give it a try then,” he muttered, “So why don’t you give me a big smile. You could hear him fiddle with something on his camera before he leaned over you and put it down in front of you both. Still, there was a small change to it. With one hand in your hair, he pulled your head a bit up, posing you clearly in front of the lense. You now noticed that the camera could flip its screen up so you were able to see yourself – and Him. A small red light had started blinking. Your lungs started to strain as you felt The-black-robed monster lean into you.

“You have a sharp tongue, but something tells me it’s not going to help you after He sees you immortalized in my picture. But let’s smile for the camera either way huh?” With one hand grasping your jaw he held you fully open to the cut of his knife. In a flash of pain, the red light on the camera was switched out with a bright light. The moment was quick, but there was little you could do to stop the bleeding soaking into the already bloody earth.

\---

His footsteps were giddy as he hurried back to the others; like a child on their way to open their presents on Christmas morning, or maybe like a man on his way to a date with someone important. Yes. Much more like the latter. He didn’t even feel the thundering from the little stunt of hers with the rock. How feisty she had been. Honestly, he hadn’t been this excited in a long time. As fun as it was to kill the survivors, again and again, watching them gasp for air as their lungs filled with their blood, this was far more enticing. This was a challenge. The survivors didn’t fight back, not really, so this was an actual challenge. This wouldn’t be the first time he was about to fight another disciple of The Entity, nor would it be his last. Mainly since that pathetic club of misfits always came at him because their leader was compensating for something and had his head shoved too far up his ass. And the others were simply small ducklings following their mother. Sad, weak, and sadistic little ducklings. Honestly, if he had a penny for every time his boot had been crushing the small gremlin wearing a skirt into the dirt or stabbed the quiet guy wearing the painted bandana in his spleen, or held the seething ferret that was obviously Frank’s personal spank bank at knifepoint, he’d have enough to buy himself a new and better camera. Not that he would, of course, the camera he owned had too many memories and there were too many valuable photos stored on it.

But yes, this would be different. The was a laugh inside him fighting to erupt, yet he couldn’t allow it. He needed himself calm; ready, but it was getting more and more difficult the closer he came to their fire. This was all so unexpected yet it couldn’t have happened at a better time. When he went out into the forest in search of entertainment, he had no idea how ripe his harvest would end up becoming. He couldn’t deny that when he had first heard about her from The Dream Demon, he had been curious. Not because of her as a person necessarily, but what she had done. Somehow she had managed to catch the attention of The Shape. The Shape of Haddonfield. The most silent of them all, and perhaps the most bloodthirsty one. There were obviously some killers that were better than others. The Trapper, that had been here the longest, was perhaps the most efficient of them all; knowing how to plan ahead of the prey and take them down one by one. He knew his job, and he did it well. Whilst Wraith, who too had been here a long time, seemed to dislike his servitude more than the average killer and had a bad habit of allowing the prey to escape. He would then be punished for his transgressions and come back less like himself. Failure would be followed by pain and discipline. Often with having their memories, the very thing that made them who they were, taken away from them forever. He, himself, had over time pondered about what his true name was when awaiting the upcoming trial. One part of his brain told him that from birth he had been Danny Johnson, yet he could recollect writing down and introducing himself as Jed Olsen. With every trial, it was getting foggier. Luckily he could still, in the end, come to the realization that the latter name was his alias. Even if it could take a moment. He didn’t like forgetting. That was why he clutched his camera close to his chest. For even if his use of the camera back home had been a way of expressing his darkest desires of publicity; broadcasting his brutality and leaving a trail of dead bodies and fear in its wake, it had now become a vital tool in remembering all that had been and all that was. It was his way to stay grounded and focused.

He would soon be upon their “waiting room”. He could see the glow from their fire in the distance – closer and closer with every step. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t show weakness, he couldn’t show how much he needed, no, craved for this. This time it would work and it would be the fight he needed. Not like the child play with the angsty teens. Not like when he baited a fight with Trapper shortly after he had arrived. He could still remember how quickly the other killer had grabbed his neck after he had tried to antagonize him. How quickly he had shut down his attempt to start a fight. He had then realized that whilst The Trapper was the most efficient of them all, he had no intention to fight anyone when it was outside his payroll. His thirst for blood had faded with time and now he only did what he had to – the rest he didn’t care for.

That’s why Danny wanted The Shape. There was nothing but bloodlust. Similar to himself, and the kids, he had come here looking human. Whilst he obviously wasn’t and there was something else inside the man-like husk, something dark and sinister, he had arrived looking as normal as they could. Like the old journalist he was, he had asked around their Fire when he had arrived, and he had quickly deduced that when the killers were taken, there were only two choices: accept your fate and leave your homeworld or be taken forcibly. Should they decide to fight back, there would be consequences. Danny was good with people. Very good. So good that he had managed to manipulate the Wraith into telling him why he looked like he did. It had been difficult to hear him, his voice raspy and tight, almost as if his vocal cords were ripped or something was blocking their vibrations. He had only muttered words like, “didn’t mean to” and “sorry”. Wraith doesn’t speak anymore. Whether or not it was because he couldn’t or because he didn’t want to, Danny didn’t know, but he also knew he didn’t care. The Infamous Ghostface had no interest in kicking puppies that were already whimpering.

The Shape wasn’t whimpering – he wasn’t crying out in regret and despair. No, he was exactly where he wanted to be; in an endless cycle where he had the power and opportunities to hunt as he wished. Unlike some, he was a full-blown predator. A silent, but deadly watcher in the night, calculating and planning, before striking at the outmost perfect moment. What combination was more befitting than The Ghostface facing The Shape. The thought of the possible headline, if he still could have written it, forced a crooked grin across his face. Oh yes, this was exactly what he needed. 

Danny wasn’t far away from fire now. No, he could now see the ones residing by its flame. The slight floating movement proved that the dark shadow he could see was The Nurse. When he came closer, he would hear her choked breathing, since whilst she knew there was no way she would be able to take another breath again, her reflexes forced her lungs to keep up the fight she would never win. Another punishment for a killer’s sins. He had walked with his hands by his sides, helping his hurried speed towards his goal, yet now he meticulously put them into his deep pockets. The blood on his gloves had coagulated and was almost dry. He couldn’t show them that he had rushed, no, not when he needed to remove Danny from himself and be The Ghostface. That was all they would see. No Danny, and no Jed.

The other servants he noticed was The Hag and The Hillbilly. At first, The Hag had only looked like a spot of darkness, or like a stump rooted to the ground, with how she was crouched over, digging her bone-like fingers into the dirt. The Hillbilly, however, was sitting down on one of the logs, looking into the fire. Whether or not he was actually contemplating something, the journalist didn’t know, as neither he nor The Hag had been someone he had been able to hold a conversation with. All that they could utter was sounds similar to growls and barks, and Ghostface had no interest in learning their language.

He was close now, they would notice him in a couple of seconds – he wasn’t hiding his presence. With a leathered glove he grabbed a hold of the paper in his left pocket. It was shiny on one side, and matt on the other. The excitement of which photo he was holding was almost killing him. Would it be the one where she had been angry? Crying? Maybe one of the photos he had taken when she had realized he had been watching her. His hand was shaking. He needed to breathe. Relax. The Shape had been away when he left, so if he was lucky, he would have returned by now, unless he too had been out on a hunt for excitement. A small part of him wanted to think that they had both looked for it at the same time, so in a way, they had been linked, but he knew that there was a stronger need for him to have stayed by the crackling fire.

Then he saw Him. The Shape was there. He could not believe his luck as he tried his hardest not to shake with relief and anticipation. This was the moment. This was what he craved and had needed. The Killer had been engulfed in the shadow of a tree, close to the fire, yet hidden. Always on the outside of his surroundings, but now Ghostface would expose him. Heads turned as Ghostface approached the fire, yet he didn’t pay attention to any other face than the pale silicone features directed towards him. Now was his time. With determined steps, he walked past The Nurse. Two more steps to go. One. With a calculated flick of his wrist, the almost crumpled photo was dropped out from his pocket. Action.

“Hm?” he looked over his shoulder feigning ignorance. Behind him was the photo face up. His eyes glinted when he realized which photo it was. It couldn’t have been a more perfect one. With a deliberate turn, he bent down and picked up the photograph with a calm and languid motion. It had landed right by His feet, almost as if The Entity had helped in his little escapade.

“Ah, wouldn’t want to lose that now would I!” he continued, getting back up. Looking at the photo, he felt a shiver down his spine. He needed to thank her later for her cooperation, for she had been nothing if not perfect in her pose. With her chest bare, she was covered in blood. The eyes were dull and looking just off into the void. She had died just maybe a minute before, and he had opened her up even more after her departure. He had been careful with placing her intestines around outside her abdomen like one poses a puppet. A complete masterpiece that had been immortalized by one simple click.

“Beautiful, wouldn’t you say?” he chuckled and angled the photo towards his adversary, “Such a nice colour of red inside her. I had my suspicions, yet it was truly something to experience sampling it for myself.” Ghostface was meticulous in his words. This was a key moment. Looking over, The Shape showed nothing. The pale face was unmoving, and no doubt whatever underneath it was as well. He did not move an inch, except for his breathing, calm and controlled. Alright, Danny would bite.

“I have more, you know. She was a real darling for posing for so long,” with a quick movement he had several more photos in his hands. Bloodstains riddled them as he shuffled through them slowly, “See, this one was taken when she thought she was alone. Adorable, right? And this one is a bit blurry because of the sudden flash, but you can clearly see the fear in her eyes. She’s got some quite delightful expressions if I may say so, and not to speak sounds.” Soon he would break; no killer would accept this. Especially not him.

Yet nothing.

“I also adored taking this one,” with his free hand he grabbed another photo. It was their photo together; faces so close one might have thought they had been friends, had it not been for her defeated look, and the blood gushing from her throat. The Shape had to bite. He had to.

There was an eeriness that began to form inside the Ghostface. What if she had been right? What if she actually knew the taller man before him better than he had thought. Somehow, he couldn't shake the irritation building up as he looked back at her face. It was too pretty; too unsullied compared to the rest of her. He should have split his administrations more evenly. He had been cautious about not harming the face so that the Shape would recognize her, yet when he reconsidered, it was probably foolish of him to think that he wouldn't recognize her by her body only. After all, before Ghostface, He had been the only one to sully her in such a fashion. Her words came back to him, “There is no way this will give you anything other than his disinterest. He doesn’t care about me.” He should have cut out her tongue.

This was getting him nowhere; he wasn't responding - he didn't care. He needed to care. There had been no reactions from the taller man, and Ghostface honestly hadn't anticipated his lack of presence. 

"Come on here, give me some feedback here. Don't you know artists need praise and constructive criticism to grow? What did I do good? What should I do better next time I meet her?" Ghostface was a master manipulator and a well-versed devil, yet it didn't work. He needed to push further. He picked up his last photo.

"Do you think my signature is visible enough? I mean I know I carved it into her lower back, and I know that a hunting knife doesn't have the thinnest bite, but can you see the 'J' and the 'O'?" His eyes shifted back to the statue; nothing but ivory pale latex and heavy breathing. Had the breathing changed or was Jed only hopefully imagining it? Enough.

"You know, Shapie? I'm sure you understand whatI'm trying to do here, and I don't see why you're abstaining from this. Isn't your blood just boiling? Doesn't it infuriate you that I touched her? That I claimed her? You got to care somehow, why else would you choose the bitch?" He was feeling himself slip. It didn't matter that the other killers were present, yet silent. It didn't matter that Jed's suave way of choosing his words was slowly becoming more and more desperate. What mattered was this longing fire inside his chest; screaming out in wretched agony and need. A need to feel. A need for a different fight and a different hunt.

Yet The Shape stood silent, his eyes still at the photo in Ghostface's hand, yet his mind was elsewhere; a place where Jed couldn't reach him.

Just as Ghostface, no Jed, or maybe Danny, doesn't matter, just as he was about to speak there was a cold and familiar shiver running down his spine. Almost like a vibration from his feet to his fingertips. Before it would always bring excitement and a thrill, yet now it was the one thing he had dreaded to long. He had used too much time. He had none left.

"Nonono, listen Shape," he was slipping.

"I'll do it again, you know?" no reaction.

"Yeah, I'll find that little whore and defile her again!" obsidian dark smoke started to form around his feet.

"I'll rip her apart piece by piece and savour her!" He was feeling the pull and there was no way to stop it; a faint whisper calling him. He could do nothing as he looked up at the man that was supposed to be his adversary. Yet as he looked back at the pale facade, he knew. It was almost as he and the girl was one at that moment. Neither her nor Ghostface had any control over the Shape. No one could make him so something he didn't feel like doing, nor stop him from his goals and desires. There was no leverage to be used against someone that wasn't human. A dark force in the shape of a man. How befitting, Danny thought, before being engulfed into darkness and disappearing from the campsite, off to do The Entity's bidding once more. 

Silence took a long of the fire once more, none of the servants saying anything. Scattered around his boots were the pictures of the girl. Carved like a fish and covered in blood. If Ghostface hadn't been too focused with The Shape's face, he might have noticed the hand clenching the handle of his weapon, and the slight tremble that followed. The Shape was not a dormant creature.


End file.
